As Long as They Both Shall Live

"Coyote Boy" is Zephyr's newest alter ego. As far as I can tell, he invented this persona himself. Coyote Boy silently prowls around, and howls instead of saying, "Thank you." He might scratch at your leg to get attention, so Coyote Boy has had his nails (claws?) recently trimmed. I'm not sure if Coyote Boy is villain or superhero. It might still be a toss-up.

On Friday, Coyote Boy and Cat Woman (as Zephyr calls Jubi when he's in a certain mood) were walking around the house together. I'm not sure if they were searching for victims or fighting crime. When I crossed their path, Zephyr said, "Coyote Boy and Cat Woman are in love." Ten minutes later, it was, "Coyote Boy and Cat Woman just got married." He paused, thoughtfully, then went on. "They're not going to have any children, though. They like being just the two of them."

Maybe I should be telephoning child psychologists, but instead, I get a warm, gooey feeling in my heart when Zephyr calls Jubilee his wife. I don't think they're really going to grow up and marry (and even if they did, at least they're not planning to procreate, right?) What Zephyr knows about husbands and wives is what he sees from Jon and I. Two people, living each day together, in peaceful productivity, working affectionately towards shared goals. And he wants that with his sister. How sweet is that?


Besides, he's not always feeling the siblove. Yesterday morning he awakened before Jubilee and wanted to snuggle with me. When Jubi woke up and asked to nurse, I had to turn away from him. He watched thoughtfully, then said, "We should adopt Jubi." "Honey, I would choose her to be a member of our family, too, but we don't have to adopt her. She's already one of us." I soon realized that I misunderstood. "I want to adopt her so I could snuggle with you all of the time," he explained. Oh. "Well," I began, "if we adopted her out, she wouldn't be ours any more. What if we saw her in a restaurant with another family, and she couldn't come be with us? That would make me sad. Would it make you sad?" He was quiet for a minute. "How about if Carrie and Char adopt her?" he suggested. "Then they could watch from their porch when she came over to visit us."

But then, this morning, there they were, standing on chairs with important-looking note pads and pencils, calling themselves "Mrs. and Mr. Mayor." Jubilee was singing the ABC song, and Zephyr confirmed that the purpose of the mayor meeting was to learn the ABC's. And while I would, of course, be horrified if my children actually married each other one day, I have to admit, Zephyr could do worse. Even though Jubi is nearly three years younger, she tries to take care of Zephyr. On the playground, she'll bring him food and water on her own initiative. And today when he wanted a midmorning snack and didn't like any of the choices I offered him, she chimed in. "Zephyr, we have pear sauce, and Goldfish," (here she started to lose her focus), "and couches, and books, and magazines, and pictures..."

One last little unrelated note. The other night, I asked Jubilee who her friends were. As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I doubted she'd be able to answer it. It seemed a little abstract for a 21-month-old. Almost without hesitation, she began, "Ainslie, and Genna, and Piglet, and Pooh, and Zephyr, and Jubi, and Kanga, and Tigger, and giraffe (?), and kiss a robin." Zephyr was in the room with us, and we exchanged glances. "Kiss a robin?" Zephyr questioned. After a beat, we figured it out. "Christopher Robin?" we asked her, and she enthusiastically repeated, "Kiss a Robin!" Of course. Let's just hope Zephyr doesn't get jealous.