Sibling Love - part 2

There are moments when all three of my children get along. The moments are fleeting. but they do happen. For instance, last evening, in the drizzly, humid, muddy conditions, all three of the Kim-McAllister monkeys played together, or at least appeared to, while Daddy and I were playing ultimate frisbee. Since it was too wet to play at the slides and swings (and I didn't trust that Aisling would actually keep her rubber boots on), I commanded them to remain by the bench. While ignoring my request to refrain from consuming the snacks until half time (everything was eaten within minutes of arriving), the three managed to amuse themselves by chasing each other with the umbrellas, setting up pylons, chasing each other, falling in the mud and concocting various imaginary adventures. At various times, the harmony fell apart because one child would not give back the umbrella, or because someone else had eaten the last cheese, or another little person was bonking the others on the head with the plastic pylons. This would invariably mean choral whining and crying, finger pointing as to who started 'it' this time.
Which I'm used to. It happens at least three to five times an hour. The perfect day would be one with only one major meltdown. Sometimes, I wonder if my children will ever get along peacefully especially when it's a regular occurrence to fight over who gets to sit next to Daddy at dinner time, and whose turn it is to pick the movie, and who gets to guess which song is playing on the radio, and then there's the shoving and pushing to sit in a coveted location. But then again, my adult siblings and I still have our moments.
Every once in awhile I catch a glimpse of their bond, like when they're sleeping, all curled up against each other, with limbs intertwined. Picture if you will, a litter of newborn pups dozing on top of each other. Or when they're negotiating with each other. On the weekend, Devlin wanted to watch certain episode of Justice League, although it was Ceilidh's turn to pick the movie. With a minimum of wailing, Devlin had managed to get his way. But not before he had promised to Ceilidh, to feed her breakfast, get her clothes for the day, pick up her toys and some other ridiculous task.
And sometimes, I see the younger siblings reciprocate the thoughtfulness. I took Ceilidh with me on a weekend errand run. To reward her for her patience, I gave in to her request for a treat and let her pick out cookies for dessert. Before making her final selection, she asked, "Do those have peanuts in them?"  I checked the ingredients and declared them to be peanut-free. "Good," she said as she clutched the cookies to her chest, "Devlin can have them too, and he'll like them."