JEFF'S LIFE
by Jeff Stimpson

Together

"Try'em togedder! Togedder!" - Norm Peterson, his mouth full of shrimp and meatballs at a wedding reception.

Alex is Ned's big brother, and Ned is Alex's little brother, and it's time to put them together in a cage.

After his bath and just before story time, Alex is refreshed and perky. In this time, Ned is also usually awake and still safely on the this side of pre-bedtime wailing. So I place Ned in with Alex, who turns to look at him.

"Alex, say hi to Ned."

No need to prompt Ned. His smile ignites every time he lays eyes on Alex. He also squawks and, lately, waves his fist. Alex too is usually delighted at this face to face, at least initially. His most common embrace of Ned is to place his outstretched hand on top of Ned's skull -- exactly how his Uncle Lee used to hold off Alex and Ned's blindly swinging dad 30 years ago.

I still have to hold Ned up, since he can't stand. Alex is usually looking out of the crib and doesn't always immediately notice when I place Ned inside. When I started doing this, Ned came up to Alex's chest. Now it's more like to Alex's chin. Ned is growing fast.

"Alex, you want to say hi to Ned?" He does. Hand to the head, fingers to the mouth.

We've wondered how much Alex notices Ned. Jill says Alex hasn't had much chance to relate to Ned in a way he can relate to people. So far, that's not much. Alex doesn't kiss anybody. Sometimes, Alex will do anything but let his eyes rest on yours. He has only lately become attached to a stuffed creature: Elmo, for whom he trots through the house beckoning "El-mo? El-MO?" Alex loves Elmo.

Alex seems to realize that Ned is not a toy Elmo, which is a good thing since if Alex is tired and crabby he tosses even Elmo over the railing of the crib.

"Ned, say hi to Alex."

Their eyes meet, and Ned blossoms into that rapture reserved for his brother, mom and dad, and everything else in this new world. Alex also breaks into a heartening combination of grin and giggle, and with Elmo in one arm he reaches out with the other. Hand to the top of the head, fingers to the mouth. Thumb near the eyes.

"Alex, touch nice."

In the early days, Ned didn't do much more than wobble there and receive Alex's touch. The other night, however, his hand swatted out and grabbed a wad of Alex's T shirt. Ned pulled himself in close and got his other hand on Elmo's arm, and pulled. The smile faded from Alex's face. Alex has had about as much experience with people grabbing for his toys as he's had with kissing.

(I tell Jill that Alex is always glad to see Ned. "Yes, but Ned can't do much yet," Jill replies.)

"Oh," I say into the cage, "I wouldn't do that, Ned."

Alex rolls into a ball at Ned's feet. Then he stretches, his thin arms clutching Elmo and his thin legs digging at the crib mattress until he rolls on top of Ned's ankles. This is how, I sense, Alex can relate to Ned right now.

Ned holds out his fat arms and lays his hands on Alex's thighs. Alex keeps rolling and Ned tumbles. "Okay," I say, lifting Ned out, "say goodnight, Ned."

I haul Ned up and over the railing. For a moment he watches Alex before I wiggle him into the car seat and buckle him in. Ned hates to be buckled in, but if you don't he squirms out now. He doesn't stay where you put him anymore.

"Say goodnight, Ned."

I turn off the goose lamp and the big round lamp, and unplug the lamp that's a string of fireflies that Jill picked up at Target. It's a very pretty string. Sometimes Alex stares it for minutes on end. He doesn't do anything else, just stares.

"Say goodnight, Ned."

I scoop up the car seat, check the air conditioner, and say, "Goodnight, Alex." Alex still lies there. He has barely moved since Ned left the crib. (July 2001)

MENSIGHT

Jeff Stimpson, 39, has been a working journalist for 15 years. He lives in New York with his wife Jill and sons Alex, 3, and Edwin, four months. He maintains a site of essays, Jeff's Life, at http://www
.jeffslife.com