"Mommy, we are a family and in our family we love 'our-chother'", one of my daughters joyfully announced to me today.
And even though she's nearly 7, I am very much determined never to correct her choice of words there.
Not today, and probably not ever.
It's not as if the girls are unaware of the word 'eachother' and it's various uses. They are most familiar with the term. It's a frequent guest in our daily routine; a common companion along the journey of our everyday life.
"Girls, please share with each other."
"My ladies, let's wait for each other before moving on."
"Yes, dears you do look very much like each other."
And the list goes on and on and on. A nearly infinite lineup of 'Each Others' parade around our world, it seems.
But not when it comes to our family and the deeply precious affection we share for one another. Then it's 'Our-Chother'. Universally; to each of us. That is the word they began using forever ago and what we continue to say.
"We love our chother".
And every single time I hear it from them, my heart melts a little bit. Because I know they know the correct wording, but are choosing to continue on with the little tradition we've started in our own family. Because even though every single aspect of their lives is blaring out "I Am Growing Up!" at the highest decibel possible, this one little bit is still mine; it's still belongs solely to our precious family. "Our chother".
I am all too aware that the forever well intentioned "Society" at large will see fit to attempt to change that; they'll try to steal that bit of innocence from them and from us. But rest assured that I am here awaiting their arrival and will fight with claws out to keep them at bay and away from my precious little creatures.
Because we love our chother around here. And no one is coming in between that. Not as long as I can help it, thank you very much.