When my daughter Nikki was about 16 months old, I had twin boys.
One day, I took one of the twins to the nursery to change his diaper. I was only gone for a moment, but while I was in the other room, I heard the front door open. My heart dropped. I rushed into the living room and couldn’t find my two older kids anywhere. Panic hit me instantly.
Without even thinking, I laid my newborn on his mat, looked at Nikki, and said, “Watch your brother.” Then I ran outside.
I found my older kids in the parking lot, laughing and playing. When they saw me, they took off running, thinking it was a game. My husband came home right in the middle of this chaos, and as I chased the kids, I yelled for him to go upstairs and check on the babies.
Eventually, I caught the kids and dragged them back inside, my heart pounding. I think that was the first time I truly felt how terrifying it is to be a parent. I sent them to their rooms and went upstairs, still shaking.
That’s when my husband met me, holding our son with the proudest look on his face.
He told me what he had seen.
When he walked into the room, Nikki was crouched beside her baby brother, Jeremy. She was gently rubbing his forehead and softly singing a little lullaby she had made up. When my husband tried to pick the baby up, Nikki looked at him and said,
“Mommy told me to watch him. I love my brother.”
I will never forget that moment. My baby took care of my baby.
It’s a story I’ll be telling for the rest of my life.
Nikki is still very close to her brothers to this day 💖