Norah and Avery have been playing together more lately. Norah jumps, Avery jumps. Norah runs and stretches her arms like wings, Avery runs and stretches her arms like wings. "I'm a princess," Norah proudly announces. "I pinchess," Avery repeats. They hug, say I love you, turn to each other to show and tell each feather found or a pebble in pocket.
When they get home from preschool in the afternoon, they slip on tutus and dance around the living room. They barter for each others' toys in the bathroom. They squeeze in tight to both be on my lap during nighttime stories. We hear them chatting with each other as they nod off to sleep.
Once at the park, a little bully of a boy plowed his way toward the bridge on the play structure where they sat entertaining one another with songs and rhymes. He pushed Avery, and tried to squish himself into the space where they sat. Before I could respond, both girls stood in unison and crossed their arms. Norah said, 'You can't play with us. That's mean. Don't touch my sister." Avery repeated, "Mean. You mean. Don't play." They shook their heads and chimed, "no, no, no."
In that moment, I knew: already, they are strong and proud. They stand their ground. They are in it together. Sisters. Friends.