turns

Sharing. Taking turns. My turn. Your turn. The kids both at this point GET the concept, they just aren't buying its validity or necessity as it pertains to them. Both feel equally entitled to exactly every single item in the house. Toys, books, remotes, crayons, brooms, cups, blankets, and hockey sticks.

Without fail the moment something catches Connor's gaze, Caroline will stop whatever she is engaged in and immediately DEMAND a turn. I understand that to her it must feel terrible for us to tell her that it is his turn, that he is using it and she will have a turn with it later. It must feel like she never gets her way, that he is getting preferential treatment, and that we clearly don't understand that EVERYTHING is hers. Connor understands enough that when we tell him to let her have a turn he will hand over whatever object has sparked the tension. And then he collapses to his knees in revolt. I rarely see him try to take something that she is playing with, but monkey see, monkey do. It won't be long will it?

His turn. Your turn. Her turn. Your turn. It's like a broken record in our house. I hate playing turn referee; gauging how long a turn each of them will tolerate before their eye sockets explode from the awesome pressure of PATIENCE. I'm considering getting another egg timer just for the playroom. I think it would take the pressure off of us to dictate turns and I honestly think that in the time it took for the timer to go off the waiting child would completely forget what they were waiting for anyway. They are like goldfish in that way, aren't they?

We don't tolerate teasing. I put things on the highest shelf that she holds literally over his head and races away from him holding behind her in that evil Na, Na, Na, Na way. I don't even hesitate. That's how white puppy got a new spot on the high shelf and every time we try to reintroduce him, he ends up back there. It's like a sharing dungeon up there.

For all the moments of teasing and fighting, even over sitting on my lap, there are equal parts getting along. They sit together at the table each in their chair coloring for entire minutes on end. They push cars around the rug. They build tall towers together. They even sit side by side on the couch pouring through books, taking turns, sharing. I savor those fleeting moments. I know it won't be long before I am listening to impassioned arguments for car keys. I'm not so sure the car would fit on the top shelf though and I'm pretty sure Connor would not look cool in front of his friends throwing himself to the floor in defeat after giving up the keys to his sister.


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