Grace and Claire play well, I must say. Grace shows Claire her nose; Claire laughs. Grace tickles Claire; Claire laughs. Grace shows Claire that she goes on the potty like a big girl; Claire laughs.
I used to believe my mom was exaggerating when she said it broke her heart to see us fight. (And yes, I participated frequently in such battles... [Will you forgive me, Brittany?]) But if her sorrow is the emotional opposite of the bliss I feel seeing my own children happily playing together, then I sure believe her now.
There are some exceptions to their sisterly harmony, of course. Mostly accidental blips like when Grace trips and falls on Claire, or tries to carry Claire, or smothers Claire in rollover hugs. When these happen, my usually sunny, smiley, giggly girl starts to wail or whimper.
Grace responds by shushing Claire and singing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."
Brad and I thought that was a little weird. For a while. Until we decided she's saying sorry in her own three year old way. I hope so anyway.
If not, at least it serves as a sort of fire alarm: "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star..." Right. Time to rescue Claire.