Don’t pick up your sister!
This is my refrain. Every morning, afternoon and night.
My sweet 4-year-old loves his little sister so much, and it is beyond sweet. I just wish he didn’t want to pick her up all the time. She just turned 1, and she’s so little and delicate compared to my frenetic 4-year-old.
But then the other day, something occurred to me—something awful—and I hastily added: “Except if there’s an emergency. If there’s an emergency, you pick up your sister and you go. You know that, right? Pick up your sister and go.“
What if we somehow found ourselves in a dangerous situation and I was incapacitated, and he thought he couldn’t pick up his sister even then?
Pick up your sister and go.
I tried to tell myself that this was practical, that this was a normal parenting conversation. There could be a fire. There could be a car accident. There could be a hurricane.
But none of that was what prompted my panicked directive, and I knew it.