We were driving home from daycare the other day, and E was happily holding G’s hand in the backseat. See, every day he makes me slide their seats together after I’ve strapped them in, so they’re close enough to touch. E was talking as he does, about 50% words that I can understand with lapses into his own made up talk. One thing came through clearly though: “My G. He’s my G.. FOREVER. Brother. My brother.”