My children, for the most part, don't fight much. I mean, they do have their spats. The other day they fell to blows over the 'possession' of a cat that had been dozing peacefully on the sofa. M2 hopped on one end of the couch to pet the cat. M1 plopped on the other end and pulled the oft-maligned, bleary-eyed cat into his lap. M2 squalled and reached for the cat; M1 grabbed her wrist. M2 hollered and tried to kick him; M1 countered with his own Sasquatch-sized feet.
The cat escaped, shaking her head at the insanity of it all (and probably at being awakened so suddenly).
Most of the time it just takes a word or two to stop these sorts of encounters. They aren't nearly as frequent as they used to be, thankfully; they seem to come in fits and spurts. Largely they are about matters of perceived possession and involve lots of jealousy. M2 is a very jealous little critter and loves to scream about the unfairness of her life when compared to that of her older brother. Tonight was a prime example. The kids were getting ready to go to bed. Oz was going to tuck them in, so they were told to come give me good-night hugs. M2 raced to get to me first. She got her hug and kiss and then dumped herself on the floor so she could crawl to her room. Then M1 sat on my lap (which isn't easy, given his size, but he does it... he gets jealous, too, but about weird things). I rocked him and quoted the book I'll Love You Forever - you moms have probably heard this one - "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be." Then I gave him a squudge (that looks weird written out, doesn't it? But I love the word. I picked it up from the movie "Hook") and sent him off to his room. As soon as my lap was vacant, a smallish green monster girl appeared. "Do that to me," she demanded.
"Do what?" I asked.
"The rocking and I love you thing. I didn't get that." And with that, she plopped on my lap, little face set in determination.
So I rocked her, and I said the words, and then I sat back to let her go... but she didn't move. "Squeeze," she said, still green with jealousy. "He got a squeezey hug."
I gave her a squeeze. And off she skipped - literally - as chipper as ever.
Green monsters. They're powerful little things, aren't they?