Something amazing happened last week. I was at the park with my two older kids. One wanted to be pushed on the swing. The other wanted me to be chased (I’m the snow monster from Frozen and the jungle gym is Elsa’s castle).
After some time, my daughter ran up to my son. “Hey, do you want to help me build a teepee?” They spent the next 30 minutes scouring the park for the perfect sticks. They worked together to build it. It was as if I didn’t exist. They got along great and were quite proud of the finished product.
Yesterday we went on a hike to the Garden of Eden (not that one, this one). They gathered rocks together and build a small dam. They didn’t need my help. They completely entertained themselves.
My kids don’t always get along. In fact, they fight. A lot. I feel like much of my time as dad is spent playing referee (as I write this I can hear them yelling in the background). But sometimes they play well together. And when they do, it’s absolutely magical.
I’m grateful for when my kids get along.