Play On, Player.

My girls are growing up. I see it in Marley's ever more thoughtful and expressive face, and in Rudy's growing (and straightening - hooray!) legs. Marley will be six in September and Rudy will be three in November, and since we've been back from vacation, there have been several mornings before we head out, when I walk in on the two of them together, just playing. With each other. Like they're buddies, and it's choice time or whatever it's called in preschool. They're cooking up plastic discs and miniature Stonehenge pieces in their playroom kitchen. Examining babies with purple and clear latex doctor gloves gleaned over several routine check-ups. Flipping contently through piles of library books and singing together in falsettos that in no way harmonize. They are playmates. Friends. I mean, Rudy hasn't been a baby for a while now, but lately, she's such a kid.

And last week, I brought out Hi Ho Cherry-O and went through it a few times with Toot, and then she and Marley spent a fairly calm half-hour playing a few rounds together. On their own. I sound so amazed, so borderline smug, I know. Like no one else has had children who ever cooperated or enjoyed each other's company. But it's new to me, and I love it.

Especially because I know that eventually those cherries are going to end up all over the place and someone's going to be inconsolable. And I will take every happy sisterly moment that I can.