At 12 and almost-16, my children’s grievances with each other are so consistent that my wife and I are pretty good at predicting when they’re about to be burst forth. Adam, who is 12, gets his back up when he’s asked to do an errand—like setting the dinner table—of which, he feels, Elena doesn’t pull her fair share. Elena, who is almost 16, gets really annoyed at Adam’s in-family displays of grossness and obnoxiousness, which can vary from flagrant farting to haphazardly tapping his foot when she’s trying to study. From my vantage, they’re both usually kind of right. But when I think of the general state of their relationship right now, what’s really notable is the consistent absence of grievance—and the emergence of something akin to tolerance, leavened with a bit of–dare I say it–affection.
There isn’t one incident to anchor this idea, more of a comparison between then and now. Two years ago there was just a lot more bickering and bitterness, so much that I often harbored the depressing idea that there will never be a future in which they get along. But now, more often than not, they’re kind of okay with each other. And considering they still live in the same room, that’s not only fortunate, but an outright achievement.
For studying, they typically stake out places in the apartment where the other is not—and compromise on who gets what spot. In our two-bedroom apartment, by necessity, almost any spot is fair game. They rarely spend much time (at the same time) in their bedroom, and at bedtime I don’t get the sense that they talk to each other that much (and Elena goes to sleep later than him). So maybe that’s their secret to being successful roommates: Don’t acknowledge each other’s existence.
I believe there’s one more very positive consequence of their getting along, which I never would have imagined possible until I saw it unfold. This year, his first in middle school, Adam seems to have developed a number of pleasant friendships with girls.
Just this past Saturday night, he got a last-minute invite to join a group of girls at local pizza restaurant for dinner. (Bring a friend, they encouraged him.)
My wife and I wonder what they have to talk about, but I feel pretty confident that he’s both a listener and a contributor, and he probably keeps the outright grossness and obnoxiousness to a minimum.
He knows better! Thanks, of course, to his sister.
Eric Messinger is the editor of New York Family. He can be reached at [email protected]
