parenting

Michael was seven years old and headed to class in second grade. Here’s what he was wearing: pointy black cowboy boots, a brown leather aviator jacket, and faded blue jeans, each knee with a rip of his own making.


He had also put on black sunglasses and a black-and-white bandanna, wrapped expertly, by his own hand, around his brow. And to top it all off, dangling from his right ear, left over from a Halloween costume, was a gold-plated, clip-on hoop earring.

At the time, this was pretty much his standard outfit. He was four feet tall and weighed 45 pounds. He boarded the yellow bus decked out like a rock star going on a cross-country tour.

All this took some serious preparation behind the scenes. Michael would hang out in front of the bathroom mirror, combing his thick, wavy brown hair to mimic the styles he caught on music videos on TV. He begged us to let him grow his hair longer so he could sport a ponytail.

But the look Michael adopted was going to take him only so far in his still barely adolescent life. So he also mastered a second language: fluent back talk. If I joked with him or somehow said something that upset him, he might tell me to give him a break or take a hike or fly a kite.

He would propose, with a growing frequency that caused me worry, that I either get out of town, get real, get a job or, more simply, get a life. His mouth came to strike me as a prematurely—and precociously—adult instrument, a weapon of mass destruction.


Oh, he was the complete package all right: the funky uniform, the hipper-than-thou attitude, the up-to-the-minute idiom. His purpose was clear. Michael wanted more than anything on the planet to be cool. Too cool for school.

So it went for a spell, maybe a year or two. He would strut through our apartment, lip-synching to M.C. Hammer and fingering an air guitar. He would carry a comb to school to keep up appearances. He would chase girls around the playground, no doubt without yet quite understanding why.


He bopped along with us on family outings too—bandanna, earring, and all—and drew surprised glances and even occasional rubbernecking from passersby. One time we all went out for pizza and the teenagers at the next table in the restaurant were so taken with his look that he was invited over for a cameo appearance.

As it happened, I knew the deal here, understood the impulses that drove our son. At his age, I was short and skinny, with thick black glasses and frizzy hair. I, too, once wanted more than anything to be too cool for school.

So I never said anything to Michael about his getup or his wisecracks, nor saw any reason to. I knew nothing I said to him would make any difference, or even necessarily should. Rather, I chose to do what I really had no choice but to do. Privately, in my heart of hearts, I cheered him on. At least one of us, I figured, should get to be cool.

Happiness is a warm puppy. If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands. Don't worry, be happy! Rules for how to live happily are nothing new. But lately, our well-being -- and that of our kids -- seems to be in free fall. Depression, anxiety, and even youth suicide rates are increasing, as is cell phone and device use and the constant expectation to be "on." Raising kids to be happy in today's world isn't impossible: Many generations of parents have managed to do so when the threats were way worse than FOMO. We just need to rewrite the rules for the digital age.

The quest to make sure our kids are happy may have led us in the wrong direction. While media and tech deserve some of the blame for our collective stress, no one really knows how much. However, we do know that turning everything off doesn't magically make us happier. In fact, studies show that some types of screen-based activities can be beneficial -- and we all know the warm, fuzzy feeling we get when we enjoy media together. As more research emerges on the impact of media and tech on kids' mental health, it confirms what we've always known about how to be happy: Supportive relationships, a feeling of self-worth, strong character, and other positive influences are what really matter. And while you can’t mandate joy, supporting your kid -- both online and off -- creates an environment where happiness is there for the taking. These tips can help you raise a happy kid in the digital age:

Get gritty. 

Grit -- the combination of perseverance and resilience that helps you bounce back from disappointments -- plays an important role in well-being. At school, online, and even with friends, kids feel pressured to achieve something on the first try. Instead, instill what’s called a "growth mindset," the process of trying, failing, and learning from mistakes. When they feel defeated, their inner voice will say, "You got this!"

Nourish their sense of self-worth. 

Likes, comments, and other indicators of online status are part of kids' social-media lives. But there's a tipping point when a kid’s perfectly natural curiosity about what others think about them turns into a harmful fixation on peer validation that can cause depression. You can help inoculate your kid against this by fostering an internal sense of self-worth. Encourage activities and hobbies that give kids a sense of accomplishment on their own terms.

Be grateful. 

Being aware and thankful is a tried-and-true life hack that leads to a stronger sense of well-being. You can actually use media and tech to cultivate a sense of gratitude. Check out sites and apps that let kids help make the world a better place. Watch TV shows and movies that inspire gratitude. At home, create a culture of appreciation by discussing what you're grateful for. Check out Greater Good Magazine's Gratitude page for more ideas.

Go outside. 

Seriously, that's all you need to do. Nature is scientifically proven to boost well-being. If you need inspiration, watch nature movies or download apps that encourage outdoor exploration. Or just put down your phone, close the laptop, turn off the TV, and go for a walk.

Foster connection.

In the digital age, kids can make new friends and strengthen existing relationships online, whether it's in a rousing game of Fortnite, a few hearts on Instagram, or even a FaceTime session with the grandparents. But the happiest people are the ones who consistently find a balance between screens and the rest of life. And as the grown-ups, we're the ones who need to model healthy habits. So, carve out screen-free times at home. Unplug everything so you can make eye contact and really listen to family and friends without distractions. By all means, enjoy media together -- but set limits so it doesn't interfere with face-to-face interactions.

That’s my son Michael in the photo right there. He might be a month old, maybe two. He’s asleep. I’m in the picture, and my wife, Elvira, is there, too, leaning toward him. We’re both smiling. Our faces seem to say, We have our own kid now—yay!

Michael is also in the next photo, cradled in his mother’s arms. Her palm is flat on his belly. His face round, his complexion fair. His mouth is moist and his nose, just a button. He’s wearing a soft, fuzzy, eggshell-blue onesie. He’s as asleep as only a baby can be asleep, cozy in his mother’s nestling arms. Perfect harmony captured for all time.

Now here’s Michael on another day, but with Grandma Nettie. She’s at our dining-room table, holding him gingerly, as if he were a trophy just bestowed on her. She’s leaning to her right to position herself precisely for a single purpose: to take in the sight of her first grandchild. Her face is cast in shadow, but you can still make out her smile.

But now look at what else is going on in this photo. Michael is perched in her arms, in his diaper and bare feet, and he’s staring at her. And his mouth is open.

It’s as if he’s saying, Oh.

It’s as if he’s saying, Wow.

Grandma Nettie is marveling at Michael, and Michael is marveling right back. Some serious mutual marveling is going on here.

Here’s Michael in the bathtub, now about six and a half years old, and up to his chest in white, foamy bubbles. He’s smiling widely, his tongue halfway out. It’s because once again he has some company in there, namely his one-year-old sister Caroline.

Hey, his smile says, I’m taking a bubble bath with my little sister!

Hey, her smile says, I’m taking a bubble bath with my big brother!

I stare at that photo and ask myself, Were a brother and sister ever happier than in this moment?

First his mother, then his grandmother, and now his sister: surrounded by women, no little boy ever had it so good.

In case you ever doubt your memories, you can easily check. Just look at the pictures. And then look again. Eventually, everything comes into focus. You get a second chance to see your child for the first time. The photos also confirm the love you felt in those intimate moments. They also reveal just how deep it goes. 

The first day of school prompts many emotions for both parents and kids—excitement, fear of the unknown, and the promise of endless possibility. However, the transition from preschool to kindergarten can also be challenging for your young child. This shift can feel quite different from the expectations and routine of preschool, so it’s important to ensure your child is as ready as possible for this change. Luckily, there are ways to help your student gain confidence and tackle those first-day jitters. Here are three tactics you can use to begin preparing your child for kindergarten.

1. Introduce her to her new routine.

Regardless of the type of preschool she attended (if applicable), the demands of kindergarten can be quite an adjustment. Even if your child was in full-day preschool, kindergarten carries a wide range of challenges that might feel overwhelming at first. She may encounter a higher student-to-teacher ratio, more structured learning activities that require a specific level of focus, and an increase in social interactions, both with peers and older students. Talk with her about these expectations, in an effort to help her feel at ease going into the first day.

Additionally, begin a new routine at home. The sooner she gets accustomed to what mornings and evenings will look like while in kindergarten, the smoother the transition will be. First, begin a structured morning routine a few weeks prior to school starting. This can include her waking up at the same time each morning, getting ready for the day, and sitting down for breakfast. At night, begin practicing a routine that can include picking out clothes for the next day, contributing to packing snacks and a lunch, and getting to sleep on time. The more this routine feels normal prior to the first day of school, the easier it may be to execute once the big day arrives.

It’s also key to ask her if there are any aspects of her new routine, both in and outside of school, that she has questions about. Ironing out any potential sources of anxiety before school starts can ease the transition for both of you.

2. Practice kindergarten readiness skills.

A great way to help your student feel prepared for kindergarten is to find ways to strengthen relevant skills prior to the first day of school. There are many activities you can do in your everyday life to improve his reading, math, fine motor, and social skills. Have your student assist you in counting how many fruits you need from the grocery store, identify letters of the alphabet on signs around town, and practice good manners, such as saying please and thank you. In addition, you can play I Spy to help him strengthen his vocabulary and color-recognition skills.

There are many skills your student will learn in the early months of kindergarten that you can begin working on at home. These may include using scissors, classifying objects in accordance with their size and shape, writing his full name, and identifying rhyming words. If he isn’t proficient in these skills before the first day of school, though, don’t stress. He will have plenty of time to practice once the school year begins.

Another skill that can be useful to know before kindergarten is how to follow two- and three-step instructions. These include prompts like “Collect your bag from the coatroom, and line up by the door.” He was likely taught this in preschool, but go over the concept with him to ensure he fully understands the importance of it. In addition to these skills, there may be other concepts you or his future teacher have identified to practice before the school year begins. Note these when planning first-day prep. 

3. Take a tour of the school.

A large part of feeling prepared for this change is for your child to feel as confident as possible going into the first day. Schools often host orientations at the beginning of the year for students and families to explore the building, but don’t be afraid to call the school and to request an earlier tour. The more your child understands the layout of the school, such as what her classroom looks like, the more confident she will feel as the school year approaches. Before this visit, talk to her about what specific aspects of the school make her apprehensive, and use this opportunity to ease her mind.

The kindergarten transition can be challenging for both you and your child. The good news is there are steps you can take to send a confident and prepared student off on the first day of school. 

On special occasions, like birthdays, my parents would let my sister and me share a can of soda with our dinner. I remember how we would put two identical glasses side-by-side on the table and take turns pouring a little soda into each of them, periodically checking, like surveyors measuring a million-dollar property, to make sure that both glasses contained exactly the same amount of liquid, down to the last milliliter.

We measured our parents’ love in the same way, always vigilant to make sure we got equal amounts of it: equal amounts of attention, affection, praise, and presents. If one of us ever felt she was not getting her fair share, our home would ring with that most aggrieved accusation in the siblings’ handbook: “You love her more than you love me!”

In less emotional moments, one of us might slyly pose the only question that makes mothers and fathers more uncomfortable than the one about where babies come from: “Who do you love more, her or me?”  Every parent knows there is no answer that will satisfy the child who asks this question. If you say you love both or all of your children the same, the kid won’t buy it. He’ll either think you’re humoring him and try to wheedle another answer out of you, or suspect you’re not telling him the truth because you love his brother or sister more (or less) than you love him but don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings.

The problem is that “Who do you love more”” isn’t the right question. It’s not a matter of the amount of love you have for each of your children; it’s about how and why you love each of them, how you express your love to each, and what you particularly love about one or the other. Try explaining that to a six-year-old!

The fact of the matter is that if I had to divide my heart between my son and daughter, I have no doubt the two parts would come out equal. But if I had to describe my love for each of them individually, it wouldn’t sound the same, for the simple reason that they are not the same people. I love my son’s gentleness, his protectiveness toward those he cares for, his instinctively sunny disposition. I love my daughter’s engagement with the world, her curiosity, the intensity of her feelings and beliefs. As mother and daughter, she and I share more of our emotional lives with each other, while with my son, I share a sweet, easygoing camaraderie. How can I even out the lump sum of such an assortment of sentiments and attachments in a way that they will understand?

Growing up, both kids had gripes about the unequal (i.e., unfair) treatment they felt they sometimes received from me. My son complained that I spoiled his sister, that I indulged her and got her anything she wanted. My daughter grumbled that I was more lenient with her brother, that I laughed at some of his misbehaviors, the same misbehaviors for which she got scolded.

I here and now freely admit that their grievances were absolutely legit! I did buy daughter more, because she seemed to need more—more clothing, more paraphernalia, more stuff —while my son seemed to need less. (We’re talking about a boy who could wear the same shirt for a month and not notice.)  I did scold him less, because he knew how to charm the anger out of me by explaining himself in a way that made my stern face crumple with amusement. But did these inequities mean that I loved her more than him or him more than her? Not for a minute.

So, where does that leave us? Maybe there’s a mother out there somewhere who knows how to satisfy her children’s incessant desire to extract the inexplicable, but my own best guess is that we’re back where we started, with “I love you the same amount,” amount being the operative word. Although that answer might not be complete, and it might not pass muster with our kids, it is truthful—at least for me it is. My heart is filled with love for my children, and the feelings I have for each are bound together inextricably. One of them may take up more space in there one day, the other loom larger the next. But there is always plenty of room for both. 

By Caroline Knorr, Parenting Editor, Common Sense Media

In many homes, getting kids to turn off their cell phones, shut down the video games, or quit YouTube can incite a revolt. And if your kids say they need to be online for schoolwork, you may not know when the research stops and idle activity begins.

When it comes to screen time, every family will have different amounts of time that they think is "enough." What's important is giving it some thought, creating age-appropriate limits (with built-in flexibility for special circumstances), making media choices you're comfortable with, and modeling responsible screen limits for your kids. Try these age-based guidelines to create screen rules that stick.

Preschoolers. There are lots of great TV shows, apps, games, and websites geared for this age. But too much time spent in front of a screen can interfere with activities that are essential for growing brains and bodies.

• Go for quality and age-appropriateness. Not everything for preschoolers needs to be a so-called "brain-builder," but there's a difference between mindless and mindful entertainment. Our reviews can steer you toward titles that help preschoolers work on developmental skills like sharing, cooperation, and emotional intelligence.

• Sit with them, and enjoy the discovery process. There will always be moments when you need to rely on the TV or an app to distract your preschooler while you get something done. But as much as you can, enjoy media together. Little hands and developing brains really benefit from your company (and guidance!).

• Begin setting limits when kids are little. Habits get ingrained early, so try to establish clear screen-time rules when your kids are young. For games, apps, and websites, you may need to set a timer. For TV, just say "one show."

Elementary and Middle Schoolers. At this age, kids love TV shows, games, movies, and online videos. They begin to explore more and hear about new shows and games from friends. Because they can access these things by themselves, it's crucial to continue to supervise their activities and help them stick to your rules.

• Start with an endpoint. Use whatever tools you have -- your DVR, Netflix, OnDemand -- to pre-record shows, cue them up, or plan ahead to watch at a specific time. That way, one show won't flow into the other, and you can avoid commercials. If your kids are into YouTube, search for age-appropriate videos, and add them to a playlist to watch later. Because most games don't have built-in endings (and are, in fact, designed to make kids play as long as possible), set a timer or some other cue that says "time to stop."

• Help them balance their day. Kids this age need guidance from you on a daily plan that includes a little bit of time for everything. And staying involved works: Kids whose parents make an effort to limit media use spend less time with media than their peers do, according to a 2010 Kaiser Family Foundation study. Use the American Academy of Pediatrics' worksheets to create a family media plan. 

• Practice what you preach. It's tempting to keep reaching for your phone to check email, texts, Facebook, or the news. But your kids will be the first to call you out for not "walking the talk." Plus, they'll pick up habits from you. Model the media behavior that you want your kids to emulate.

By Christine Elgersma, Senior Editor, Parent Education at Common Sense Media 

If your kid's online, there have probably been times when you've wanted to track everything they've texted, see their entire social media history, or just shut off the internet entirely. Those are the times you wish for the perfect parental controls -- something that will grant you all the access and authority you want without making a bad situation worse. The truth is, while clicking a few buttons on a hardware device or downloading a monitoring service seem like no-brainers, the most effective parental control is free and knows your kid very well. That's right: It's you. Digital tools and settings can help you stay on top of your kid's online life, but can't replace staying involved, having conversations, and helping them make responsible choices. Need more convincing? Here are the key reasons why you are the best parental control around:

Fighting tech with tech can fail.

If they put their minds to it, kids can defeat almost any parental control. One of the truisms of the digital age is that your kids probably know more than you do, and it's easy for them to Google "How do I get around parental controls?" and read step-by-step instructions for dismantling your carefully chosen software or device. Of course, there are tools that do what they promise and offer you some comfort and control … at least for a while. So, if shutting down the internet via a tap is helpful for your family, pairing it with conversations likely will make it more effective. And if your kid does an end run around your parental control, let them learn to code so they can channel their skills in a positive way.

Spying isn't sustainable.

Kids -- especially older kids -- may feel like parental controls invade their privacy. According to one study, the loss of trust prompted by parental controls can weaken your whole relationship. Simply shutting the internet off is one thing, but if you try to track your kid's social media accounts or read their text messages, they may just create new profiles and take their conversations to other platforms far away from your prying eyes. Instead, when you decide it's time for them to go online or have a phone, let them know upfront that you'll do spot-checks -- not to "catch them" or get in their business -- but to support them as they learn balance in the digital world. If you decide to use parental-control devices or platforms, integrate them into ongoing conversations so they can serve as a safety net as your kid is learning the ropes. The world of digital media and its influence on our kids are far too complicated for simple solutions or ultra-strict oversight.

What you say makes more of an impact.

Instead of flipping a switch, be the voice in their head. Teaching and modeling a healthy approach to the online world will have a much more lasting impact. Being able to shut down the internet in your home at key times can be very helpful, but it's also a bit like always fastening your kid's seatbelt for them: Eventually, we want them to remember to buckle up on their own. To get a kid to really remember something, research shows that some information requires repetition over time. A combination of showing them a healthy approach and discussing media and tech use over time, on multiple occasions, will help kids regulate themselves and build skills to carry into adulthood. When you say things like, "Remember to think before you post," "Don't talk to strangers on the internet," and "Use strong privacy settings," they'll remember. As new technology comes and goes, we are our kids' North Star, the constant guidance in a constellation that keeps changing shape, and tech-based parental controls will never shine as brightly as our influence.

Sharing instead of shutting down sparks learning.

Sometimes we let our kids use devices because we're looking for a few minutes to get something finished, and setting time limits and doing spot checks -- verbally or with digital parental controls -- is important. But the more we can watch and play with our kids, the more they'll learn from the media they're using. Research shows that just sitting with your kid while you watch heightens their awareness, which can make them more receptive to learning. It can also boost literacy skills and empathy, and -- since we know our kids best -- when moments come up in media that apply specifically to our kids' lives, we can use those instances to start a discussion, ask questions, and make connections. Also, the more we model this dialogue with media for our kids, the more they can look at it critically, ask questions themselves, and take away lessons for their own lives.

“I want a dog,” Caroline begged. “Please.” Our daughter was seven years old and had made up her mind.

“Someone will have to take care of the dog,” we told her. “It’s a lot of responsibility.” I had a full-time job and we had two children. We already had enough responsibility.

“Then let me get some kind of pet,” Caroline pleaded. “Any kind of pet.”

So we all talked about what kind of pet Caroline might get. It would have to be easy to care for and inexpensive. A cat? Too stinky. A bird? Probably too noisy. We decided on a goldfish. You never had to walk a goldfish. They never barked or whined in the middle of the night. They could swim around without a collar or a license.

Caroline really loved her little goldfish. She named him Rainbow. She sprinkled food into his fishbowl once a day and cleaned it once a week. She wished Rainbow good-morning and good-night and asked him how he was doing. She even asked him if he had enough light to see where he was going and if he preferred a different location in her bedroom. A more dedicated owner no pet goldfish ever had. Given the chance, I’m sure Caroline would have taken Rainbow out for a walk too.

But then, just a few weeks later, Rainbow died. My wife and I discovered him dead, floating without a flutter on the surface of the water in his bowl, and had to tell Caroline. That was hard for us to do, just as we knew it would be. She broke down in tears, and we had no success comforting her. We offered to get her another goldfish, but she said no thank you.

How and why Rainbow died we have no idea. But no foul play was ever suspected. Maybe he was old or sick. Maybe he missed his pet-store friends.

Now came another tricky issue: what to do with the body. As it happened, it was summer, and we belonged to a beach club on the Atlantic Ocean. Caroline came up with the idea: we would bury Rainbow at sea. 

So off we went to our cabana, Rainbow adrift in a plastic bag filled with water. We shuffled in our sandals on the hot sand toward the shoreline. Caroline stood there with us holding the bag.

She told Rainbow she loved him and was sorry he had died and would miss him. Then she said good-bye and dropped Rainbow into the surf. The waves quickly wafted her pet goldfish out into the ocean and out of sight. Caroline slowly waved good-bye, crying.

Losing Rainbow was how Caroline first learned that nothing is guaranteed to last forever. It also showed us just the kind of daughter my wife and I were lucky enough to have. Sensitive to the suffering of others, particularly the helpless, such as babies and other small creatures. She hated to see the vulnerable hurt.

Empathy and compassion are hard to teach, if they can even be taught at all, but maybe they can be learned from experience. Caroline knew how it felt to be hurt. Sometimes kids in school made fun of her because she was small, just like Rainbow. She never told me about any of that; I had to find out from Mom. Now maybe her sympathetic nature came naturally. But more likely, it was early on that she came to understand and identify with anything small.

That’s also why Caroline grew her hair and gave it to Locks of Love for children who go through chemotherapy. It’s why she breaks into tears at scenes in certain movies about a hardship—Dumbo separated from his mother, for example—and at the sight of a dog limping along missing a leg.

Caroline is still like that today. Just ask Coco and Edgar, her two rescue dogs.

Every week, starting when I was ten, my mother took me on a forty-five-minute drive to ballet school. We kept up this routine for two years, until it became clear that no amount of lessons would ever turn graceless, waistless me into the Sugar Plum Fairy. But if those car trips didn’t lead to the dancing career I’d dreamed of, they gave me something I prized even more: time alone with my mother. Ballet night was the one night of the week I didn’t have to share her with my sister and my father. During those long rides to and from dancing school and at dinner in a coffee shop after class, I had her all to myself and was the center of her attention. It was bliss.

I can’t be sure that all children want to have their parents to themselves, but I certainly did—and so did my kids. Just as my husband and I needed time alone together, my son and daughter made it clear they craved time alone with one or the other of us, mostly by asking unsubtle questions that included the phrase “just the two of us?”

I suspect that even the closest of siblings sometimes fleetingly wish that they were only children and could have their own rooms, their own stuff, their own moms and dads. This is hardly surprising; if kids have a tough time sharing their toys, how much tougher must it be for them to share their parents?

Recognizing our own kids’ desire to have at least one of us all to themselves, their father and I tried to give them an equal portion of our undivided attention by pairing off and doing things separately with one or the other of them. This practice allowed us to address their dissimilar interests and concerns and kept in balance the exquisitely calibrated scale of fairness all siblings seem to have implanted in their brains. We never had to field the question regularly heard in other households of four or more: “How come he (she) gets to do that and I don’t?”

My son, for instance, has always loved the outdoors in general and hiking in particular, something his sister has loathed apparently since birth. So, when he and his father would go off hiking together on weekends in the spring and fall, she and I would go to visit Grandma, who lived two states away and baked the best banana bread within a thousand-mile radius. And while the guys were bonding over trail mix, she and I were driving westward and talking about everything under the sun, from what she would wear for Halloween to the ever-shifting allegiances of fourth-grade female friendships. In fact, it was during one of these three-hour drives to Grandma’s house that my then nine-year-old little girl asked me if a teenager could have a baby. The question triggered our first serious talk about how her body would soon start to change and what that would mean as far as having babies was concerned. It was a conversation we could never have had at, say, the family dinner table.

My husband and I made sure that we didn’t always pair off girls on one side, boys on the other. So, I was the one who took our son shopping when it came time to buy him his first suit, and my husband was the one who took our daughter to play in her soccer team’s first weekend match. The result was that he got to cheer when she made her first and (as it turned out) only goal of the season, while I got to catch my breath at how handsome my son looked in blue serge. I’ll never forget how, at lunch that day, he looked up shyly from his cheeseburger and told me about the “really pretty” classmate he planned to ask to the seventh-grade dance. 

Through the years, moments like these helped the four of us develop unique relationships with one another that were subtly different from the ones we had as a foursome. I believe these supplementary bonds strengthened us, both as a family and as individuals, because they satisfied a deep-seated and universal human desire. The fact is that no matter how good it feels to be an integral part of a family unit, all of us—big and small alike—yearn for intimate, one-to-one connections with the people we love. 

Soon after we brought our newborn daughter Caroline home from the hospital, her five-year-old brother Michael wanted us to take her back. I know that because that’s exactly what Michael told me and his mother.

My wife said, “OK.” And then she started to wheel Caroline in her stroller out of our apartment.

“Where are you going?” Michael asked.

“I’m taking your sister back to the hospital, just as you said you wanted,” she said. “But then I’ll have to stay there with her.”

Michael looked at his mother with a confused expression on his face. “You’ll have to stay with her?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” my wife said. “Of course I will. She’s too little to take care of herself.”

We could see Michael giving this whole idea some really deep thought.

“Oh, OK,” Michael declared. “She can stay.”

And that was that. And so Caroline stayed.

Since then, Michael has changed his tune. In fact, he’s always looked out for Caroline. Early on, he would stand alongside her crib, his hands on the railing. Look, he seemed to be thinking, I have a little sister. One time, at a nearby McDonald’s, Caroline, then about five, crawled into one of those long tube slides and disappeared from sight. We waited for her to come out, and then we waited some more, until we started to wonder if she had somehow gotten trapped. Finally, without being asked, Michael climbed into the tube, saw that she was just hanging out in there, and coaxed her out.

Another time, while Caroline was still little, she kicked Michael in the legs—for no apparent reason. Her brother could easily have kicked her back, and probably kicked her harder than she could kick him, but he refused to do that. Caroline got the message, and never kicked him again.

And so it went with our son and daughter. They would be in a restaurant with us, and Michael would curl his right arm around her shoulder to bring her close to him, as Caroline pressed her forehead against his cheek. And we have photos that show much the same. Michael and his one-year-old sister floating in a bathtub foamy with bubbles, happy just to be together. Michael during a summer vacation, holding her from behind, his left arm around her waist, as Caroline smiles broadly, looking as if she feels protected from the water in his embrace.

That’s how it is in photo after photo all through the years, because that’s how it goes with Michael and Caroline. Jump ahead five years, then 10 years, and the story stays the same. Michael’s always ready to watch over her and keep her safe. And Caroline would do no less for him.

I’ve done the math here. First Michael came along. Then Caroline joined us. And now they’ve created something else. I can see how much they mean to each other, how much they belong together. In the end, it’s really as if one plus one somehow equals three.