It has been fun watching Alden and Kato’s relationship develop. From the very start, she was accepting of his presence. There have been no attempts to evict, mangle, or otherwise disenfranchise him. In fact, she seems fond of him and enjoys updating us on his status: “Kato sleeping; Kato waking; Kato crying.” Also, there is, “No, Kato, that’s not for you,” when he happens to idly grab at the foot of Monkey, Bobo, Hippo, Frog, Friend, Miga, or any of Alden’s other apparently off-limit stuffed animals.

The other day, we were visiting with some family, and there was a small stroller in the corner. A very small stroller. A stroller meant for dolls, not actual babies. Alden didn’t realize this of course. Moments later, we had a situation on our hands. Against better judgment, we decided to let it play out.

It was smooth sailing at first, both babies content with their respective ends of the dynamic.

Then, out of the blue, Kato had one of those crushing moments of personal revelation. A moment when you realize your flesh is soft and yielding, your bones are entirely breakable, and your sister is two years old and yet to receive proper driver training.

The thought of it proved too much for him, and he promptly lost consciousness.

Alden, bored by the prospect of a sleeping passenger, headed off for greener pastures. Evicted from his nightmare, Kato suddenly lurched himself awake, only to realize that there was no one at the wheel.

Panic consumed him, and all went dark once more.

He stayed like that, hunched like a drunkard while Alden ate some grapes and cheese. Eventually he came to, and Alden’s interest resumed. She returned to her spot at the controls, but proceeded with greater caution, greater care.

Did she learn something from the previous misadventure? Or was she just tired?

Who can say? One thing I have learned in two years of this parent gig: when babies do cute things, no one cares about their motives.