Life is sometimes uncanny. Growing up, there were two children in my family, myself and my younger brother, born two years and 52 days apart. Now I have two keiki of my own, the eldest also a girl and the youngest a boy. They happened to be born two years and 56 days apart.

So it is not surprising that I wonder how similar my kids' relationship will be to that of me and my brother. When I see my firstborn attempt to burp and dress the newborn, I recall how, as a toddler, I tried to take care of my roly-poly sibling.

If my daughter endeavors to grab the baby's rattle, I remember how my brother unwittingly let me "trade" my old toys for his new ones (at least until our parents found out).

Will my children's current near-constant companionship help develop an eventual strong friendship? As youngsters, my sibling and I built a kids-only backyard shelter, pushed each other on swings until dizzy and played board games competitively. Together we endured what we felt to be unfair parental rules, Saturday morning language lessons, and 'ohana gatherings where the adults yakked interminably.

As the youngest cousins on both sides, we stuck together, even when our other cousins decided to play the 1960s edition of Trivial Pursuit and roundly beat us.

"We weren't even BORN in the '60s!" my brother and I protested.

Will my children be close, or not?

My brother and I got along well when younger, though naturally we had our share of arguments. The distance between us became greater over the years, but we could still draw on a storehouse of shared experiences from the abundant time we spent together.

At least by growing up close in age, my children are likely to share similarities, just as my brother and I did. In high school, we were both nominated for homecoming king/queen — and then lost. I became president of the largest club on campus; two years later he did so. Even my first newspaper publication at age 6 was accompanied by his illustrations.

We also had our differences. Just like my brother gravitated toward dinosaurs rather than my stuffed animals, our son is fascinated with balls while our daughter prefers dolls.

Personality-wise, my brother was the follower, going along with my never-ending ideas and plans. Perhaps this recent dialogue will be echoed by my children someday:

Me (ambitiously sightseeing): "Let's go to the zoo."

Him (with no plans): "OK."

Me (at the zoo): "What do you want to see?"

Him (thinking of dinosaurs): "The reptiles."

Me (plotting our course in detail): "All right, I'll lead the way."

Him (tagging along without a map): "Sounds good."

Shared by unique individuals, I am sure that my children's relationship will be distinct from any other. However, sometimes I cannot help but look at it through the lens of my own experience. In any case, I hope that my keiki's interactions even at this young age will help forge an enduring kinship in the future.