My children (courtesy of their father) are half-Canadian. In the bizarre way that life sometimes unfolds, their cousins are also half-bloods, since my sister married a Canadian as well. We settled south of the border; they live just north. We’re lucky enough to be separated by a short car trip and generally friendly border guards, so the four kids get to see each other fairly often.
We live in suburbia with a tiny yard, but Auntie lives on several acres. We have two cats and they have two dogs, one of whom is a Newfoundland (“big black dog!” according to Sebastian at 18 months). We do a lot of heating up our meals, while my brother-in-law is a fabulous cook who makes nearly everything from scratch.
In short, it’s always a bit of an adventure for the boys when we get to come here. They are offered tractor rides and new foods and lots and lots of hugs. Sebastian, still a little slow to warm up to new situations and people, often refuses all of that. But as he gets older and comes more often and, in the case of this visit, lives here for a week, he begins to delight in the things he formerly feared.
Loud noises terrify him (and there are many up here!), but he’s being brave with the help of his cousin’s vacuum:
Though he didn’t want to help plant the sunflowers, he decided a few days later that watering them was fun:
The wagon ride he refused at the beginning of the trip? Sign him up!
He even sat in the tractor and smiled as he said he would “maybe” let his uncle take him for a real ride next time.
And after all that hard work, he tried out the swing chair on the deck, just in case that was pretty fun, too.
While playing at the local park yesterday, he told me he didn’t want to go home. He was referring to my sister’s house, not ours.
I have a feeling that in a few years he’ll be begging my sister to let him live here. She’ll look at me, we’ll smile as we remember begging to stay over with our own cousins, and I’ll have to say that I’d miss him too much, but remind him to always be grateful that he has another place he can call home and be as welcome there as if it really were.
Update: sitting at the dinner table, Sebastian announced: “We’re at home. Auntie’s house is home. (pause) Part of home.”
Exactly.
Great post Jessica and I love the pictures of Sebastian! I can’t believe how dark his hair is getting. He looks so happy- even if he is out in the country!
Miss you all so much – xoxoxo
The best of both worlds for him, eh? I certainly remember spending lots of time at my cousin’s houses. Being from a rural setting, I LOVED riding a bike on paved, subdivision streets at my cousin Renee’s house in Clawson! It’s always delicious in a different environment, but comfy to go home, too.
ohh, I love this one. I have a sister too. Pregnant, hopefully our kids will be close like we are. Love family! Well…mostly.
[…] road trips north of the border to “Auntie’s house”, which you can read more about here. It’s only a two-hour drive, so the boys typically have a snooze on the […]