The "Cousin Thing" - Photos by Jen

I wasn't close to any of my cousins when I was a kid. My cousins lived only 30 miles away, but our parents and theirs weren't emotionally close, so I only saw them occasionally.

I was so connected to my siblings that I didn't realize what I might have been missing.

My husband had a different childhood - full of noisy, silly and fun cousins at all the family gatherings. From the time we met until we had our own children, I knew that's what I wanted for our kids - siblings and cousins at family get-togethers.

From the time that our boys were babies, I loved to watch the slightly older cousins "play house," holding the babies, giving them a bottle, etc., but I especially enjoyed how much our sons responded to their cousins. When little, our boys loved going to their cousins' houses for holidays. My sisters both lived in NJ, so their six children were our sons' role models, and our boys couldn't wait to see them when we visited.

From the time they were toddlers, trying to keep up with their school aged cousins, through the "tween" years and the teen years, our sons looked to their older cousins for behavior patterns (some approved and some disdained by the parents ; ) and copied their mannerisms, language and postures. While parents hope to teach their children all they need to know, their social behavior is more often imitated and practiced by watching kids older than they are...after all, they are all about copying "cool," and cousins are always cooler than grownups.

Well, as life goes, I am now watching our grandchildren closely, enjoying the relationships they have with their cousins so much. It's that "cousin thing," again - the way they interact, and help each other. It's the way the little ones of our older son look up to our other son's girls. Their faces light up when they see the older girls, Courtney, 8, and Taylor, 12. These bigger kids have paved the path for the parents and we grandparents - we cut our teeth on these girls, so we are certain that we know what to expect with our 5 year old granddaughter, Mia, and 18 month old grandson, Jack...or do we?

Mia has very mild autism. Her diagnosis - the official one - came long after her observant and dedicated parents had identified her challenges and helped her through early intervention. She now speaks more clearly, laughs, plays and 'connects' relationships - animal sounds to the animal in the picture; actions and reactions to her behavior and that of others; the word "cousins" to our other son's two daughters.

The way Mia speaks the word is clear, but breathy - "cousins!" comes out with a smile and anticipatory glee. From the time she runs through the gate of our yard to join in the Easter egg hunt the Saturday before Easter - and makes a beeline to her cousins already there - she's a blur of activity, mimicry and happiness. All the energy and knowledge of her parents, teachers and medicine can't compete with the fascination of cousins at this moment. At the sound of her exclamation, I had a catch in my breath, and my heart, in this moment of pure joy!

After we all visited a bit, we adults hid the eggs, while the two older girls kept the little ones corralled until they were set loose to search for the colorful eggs (which were decorated and filled with love the day before - again by the older kids).

Mia's little brother, Jack, toddled along, a peaceful, sweet little boy. He was happy to take his time looking for eggs, but Taylor took him in hand so he could really participate in the egg hunt, coming up with at least a few eggs before his energetic sister scooped them all up with Courtney's help. We adults had kept track - sort of - of the number of eggs we hid...somewhere between 30 and 40, and our hedges looked polka-dotted with many eggs tucked in there, at toddler/kindergarten level, for Mia and Jack. There were only a few higher than their towheads could even see - those were for Taylor and Courtney.

Soon, it became obvious that Taylor and Courtney, chocolate lovers though they might be, were giving up their eggs for the little kids. Taylor sat on the grass with Jack, letting him play with her basket of eggs. Jack was content to take the eggs apart, dump the wrapped candies, and stand the egg halves up, like a stacking toy. Taylor's patience with this whole scenario was to be applauded, for Jack moves at Jack's pace...patient and deliberate as toddlers can be.

Courtney, on the other side of the yard, got into the hunt a little more, and did find a few eggs hidden at her height; the rest, she helped Mia find...unselfish and sweet as 8 year olds can be, her newfound - more 'grown up' - behavior was endearing. Mia, too, sorted through the eggs and giggled at the stickers the girls had put on them, and smoothed her tiny fingers over the beautiful foil on the candies inside. How beautiful they were to her, and how lovely she is to us.

Another Easter, another egg hunt, but this one was special. We see growth in the hedges as they assume that fuzzy green appearance that precedes the thicket coverage many species of birds call home. We celebrate our daffodils as they turn their quirky faces to a stronger sun and stretch to receive its blessing. We enjoy the warmth of the sun on our bare arms and kick off our shoes to wiggle our toes in the new, soft, long Spring grass of the yard. It's so beautiful and welcome after a long Winter's contrary nature and sudden mood swings.

What makes this one special? For one, it's Mia's growth - the realization that she is connecting traditions and fun with spending time with her sweet, maturing cousins; how she knows, now, that this is her heritage and joy to trust in and count on. She now anticipates, and what a joy that is. Her world is bigger, more open and friendly; she can grow and open like the daffodil to receive the warmth of love in this family, and all the knowledge and discoveries that lie at her mind's door.

This one is special because it's Jack's babyhood coddling turning to toddler triumphs, as he pops open the egg at the middle, and takes out the foiled chocolate - and tosses it away, only to play with the plastic egg, instead. It's Taylor, age 12, in her inherent sweetness and patience, waiting for Jack to make up his mind whether to stack the blue or pink eggs. It's Courtney, somewhere in her mind choosing whether to find the chocolate treasures for herself, or to help Mia; and, unselfishly making the conscious choice to allow the little ones to win, this year and for years to come.

These children, our grandchildren - cherished offspring of our sons - are carrying out traditions as many children, in many families, do. When I turned my face to my pillow that night, in last minute whispers of gratitude for all my gifts, I remembered Jack turning his face to Taylor, staring at her, and then smiling his sweet little smile as she talked to him in a lilting voice. I remember Mia and Courtney, running across the lawn, their bare legs brushing the long, soft grass, searching for eggs, on their way to growing up.

I remember, too, that afternoon, when I turned to look at our sons - men, now - and remember those boys in my sister's yard when they were small boys, and I whispered my thanks for traditions - for growth, hope, joy and Easter eggs, and, always - especially - for cousins.