Call me deluded, but I honestly thought my second-born would be better at sharing toys than his firstborn (only-child-for-three-and-a-half-years) brother. In my mind I thought when the baby got interested in his brothers’ toys, there would be minimal resistance from the Hen, because he’s been expected to share his whole life.
I was wrong.
We were all downstairs in the basement a few days ago after a marathon clean-up session intended to rid the carpet of miniscule pieces of transparent plastic (thank you, Lego). Once the carpet was visible again, the Hen grabbed his toy parking garage and the bucket of cars and began his daily work of arranging cars in rows.
This time, his baby brother noticed what he was doing. And took an interest.
He crawled over to the Fisher Price garage and began knocking cars about with determined hands. Like a cat…with fists.The Hen did not appreciate the company in the slightest. Some might even say he freaked out, yelling ‘no Percy, no!’ as he tried – unsuccessfully – to protect the cars from our baby Hulk. Nothing deterred the little man, so our Henners dragged the garage and the cars to another spot. But his baby brother just crawled after him.
Panicked, the Hen ordered his older brother ‘take him to jail Gaga, put him in jail!’ And when that didn’t work he resorted to ‘shoot him, Gaga! Shoot him.’
Which was comical. And disturbing. At the same time.
How is it that I’ve carefully avoided having toy weapons in my house, and still these boys make ‘shooters’ with tinker toys and kids kn’ex. And sticks. And yell things like ‘shoot him’!
So the Gort aimed his Playmobil canons in his baby brother’s direction and released the plastic canon-arrows. By this point the Hen had collapsed into a pile of screaming tears, so I removed him from the situation for a while.
After he’d calmed down he solemnly announced ‘I share toys with Percy….and no crying.’