Why oh why did I think that two kids would get along and play together? I had visions of tea and slumber parties. Dress ups and playing babies and Barbies. I had some ridiculous notion that Maisey, being the big sister, would protect and take care of her little sister Evie. I envisioned her showing Evie everything--how to pour tea, how to paint, how to play Barbies, and yes, even dinosaurs. And I thought Evie, oh fragile dainty child, would be ever so willing to do whatever Maisey wanted. To adoringly toddle around after her.
She does toddle around after Maisey. But mostly they snatch, they scream, they tug of war. Most of the Polly Pockets are headless. Toys spend more time in the "Saturday Box" than they do being played with. And I find myself having to raise my voice above the din just to try to retain the peace. When does it get better?
Some days it starts first thing in the morning, and doesn't seem to stop until Evie's in bed. Sometimes I feel like they're gladiators, circling the living room, eyeing each other, and the same toy, waiting to strike.
I don't remember much about how well my sister and I got along when we were little; we always shared a room. We always shared. We always took turns. We didn't fight over toys. That's what my mother says when I ask her about my own childhood. But I know my sister and I fought. I know we had times when we wished we could be alone in our bedroom, that we didn't have to share anything, that we didn't have a sister to deal with. And I am trying to teach my girls that sharing is important, and while it doesn't always come easily, it will always be worth the good feelings they will get from giving.
