White Dog peered over the foot of the bed and then slowly, quietly crawled up to the pillows and gently tapped me on the face. As I opened my eyes she breathed a barely audible whine and indicated the floor by our feet. I started to swing my legs down but she stopped me, miming that I should stay on the bed and look down. I followed her lead and hugged her, then jiggled Steve to wake him so he, too, could see.
There, sleeping side-by-side, touching even, were Quinn and YoYoMa, completely at peace. An early Sunday morning miracle.
The two boys who have done an awesome job of setting up a contract between each other to get along, mostly rely on avoiding confrontation. When one moves across a room, the other cautiously moves aside and avoids eye contact. They each seem to understand the other's limitations due to disability but compassionate respect is not the same as safety and friendship. In fact, last night before bed a verbal threatening argument ensued when Quinn accidentally stepped on the already sleeping YoYoMa. Things did not escalate but there was no kiss-and-makeup either...
or maybe there was.