"Love covers a multitude of sins." It's a phrase I've heard often (though my high school Spanish teacher's version sounded more like, "Money hides a lot of ugly," but I digress). My children exemplify this blindess of love with one another.
I cannot tell you how many times I've seen Micaiah smothering Emmett and just as I'm about to scold her, I'll stop mid-"Stop; you're going to hurt your brother!" to see that he's actually giggling. The same goes for hugs that more closely resemble sleeper holds or bopping him with her princess wand.
And today I saw the situation reversed.
While plucking away at the computer, I heard a little squeal from the floor. I peeked over the top of my laptop screen enough to realize Emmett had a fist filled with his sister's hair (which was still attached). I fully expected to hear from my oft-cranky, possessive daughter a scream of pain and a yell of, "No, Emmett!!! Is my hair!" It was then, just as I began to pounce from the couch to rescue her curly locks, I noticed, rather than squeals of discomfort, it was squeals of delight I was hearing as she wiggled around on the ground in front of him. She didn't mind one bit that his fist was squeezed tighter than a fat man's speedo. She was just enjoying her time with Emmett.
Their love is truly the most forgiving.