Brotherly Identity

Daniel handed me some art work out of the blue the other day. It was a piece of easel paper torn out with all kinds of Christmas/winter-themed stickers on it - snowflakes, etc. - and two cheerful snowmen as the centerpiece. I was very moved that he made this work for me, and it was quite darling, but I was even more touched when I asked him who the snowmen were, and instead of saying, "Frosty and Rosty" or something like that, he said, without hesitating, "Me and Ian." But of course!

Today, Daniel was performing a show for me while he and I were the only ones home. One of the many acts, all performed on the train table in the play-room (with a wooden kiddie-chair in the makeshift theater for Daniel's audience-of-one), involved two little boy-dolls, about three inches tall, standing on top of Daniel's Lego pirate for (or "Fort des boucaniers," as it's labeled, for some reason, in French). These two cheerful little guys seemed a little bit out-of-place on the top level of the pirates' fort, being much larger than the lego-men that normally go on these sets, and with no trace of piracy in their identities, so I asked him, "Who are they?" and again, without any real pause, he said, "Me and Ian."

It just seems quite wonderful, not to mention touching, that Daniel so readily considers Ian as his companion and counterpart, that in all places where two sympathetic characters appear without an established, pre-existing identity, Daniel sees himself and Ian side by side in the portrait. And it wasn't at all surprising, considering how Daniel tries to work Ian into any activity as soon as it comes up, it's not at all surprising - such as a famous story from the past year where Ian was already asleep in bed, and Amy told Daniel he could watch some video, and Daniel went racing up the stairs to tell Ian of their good fortune so he could join in.

(mid-January, 2011)