A few weeks later, Ryan came home with a small wooden box.
"What's that?"
"Something for Emma."
He opened it.
Inside was a whistle.
A small one.
Two fingers could fit through the loop.
I looked at him.
"What's this?"
"Travis taught her how to whistle."
"I know."
"I thought I'd learn too."
I laughed.
"You?"
He nodded seriously.
"I've been practicing."
He put his fingers in his mouth.
Nothing happened.
Emma came running from the hallway.
"Daddy!"
She burst out laughing.
"You're doing it wrong!"
Ryan looked offended.
"I am not."
"You are!"
She demonstrated.
A terrible little whistle came out.
Ryan tried again.
Nothing.
Travis, who had just arrived at the door, watched them.
"You're hopeless."
Ryan pointed at him.
"Don't you start."
Travis smiled.
Then Emma grabbed both of their hands.
"Come on. I'll teach you both."
I stood there watching them walk into the backyard.
Ryan was still trying to whistle.
Travis was laughing.
Emma was giving instructions.
And for the first time, I understood something.
Family doesn't always mean that everyone plays the same role.
It means people learn how to make room for one another.