Last night we told Adrian that he could sleep in our room. Of course, everyone vies for that privilege, and Gabriel was sulking because he wanted to sleep in our room (we only have floor space for one in our room, and our bed, being a double, barely accommodates a nursing infant along with two adults).
I grabbed Adrian's pillows off his bed and searched for Dolly, the ragged little terrycloth doll he's had at his side since birth, and I couldn't find it, so I took his monkey and put it and the pillows in my room. "I can't find Doll," I called to Adrian, "but I have George here." Then I went into the boys' room and called Gabriel in to bed, as he was missing from the room. He came in and climbed into bed, a pout on his face. I kissed him and the others goodnight.
Adrian was in the livingroom, so I corralled him into my bedroom. He plopped down on his pillows beside my bed and began looking at the first book of a stack there on the floor. And there was Dolly, too. And I realized that Gabriel, the envious brother, had placed Dolly and the books there for Adrian.