I was sitting next to them, but not paying a whole lot of attention to how it started. The "it" was baby Shayna pulling her balled up fist away from Charlie and yelling "No, Charwee, no!" Then, I waited to see what happened. *I have always been a firm believer that if children are not given the opportunity to work through interpersonal relations, they will not be well practiced at it, and suck at it later on in life and then I will be forced to deal with them, since G-d knows I do this well and has commissioned me to work with the unpracticed people of the world. It's a theory, but I think that's why Charlie and Shayna normally play well together. This yelling and Charlie grabbing at what was in her hand continued, and I had no choice but to intervene (mostly because it was distracting and I was unable to concentrate, and if it affects me, then screw my theory, and let's get on with the day.) I asked Shay to open her closed fist to reveal what she had coveted, and what Charlie so desperately wanted. It was... (drum roll) NOTHING! She could tell I was confused, and said, "It's a sheep."
I then looked at Charlie, and as I did, Charlie made a swift motion and grabbed at the imaginary sheep. Smart little three year old, eh? That really pissed her off, and she yelled, "My sheep just bit you!" He cried, and I was again at a loss and wondering WWJD ("What Would Justify Discipline" for those of you not in the know of that acronym.)
I probably told Charlie that if you steal an imaginary sheep, you will get an imaginary bite from it. And to Shay, if you don't share imaginary sheep with your brother, it might poo on you.
Mommy note to the grown Charlie and Shayna reading this in the future--- I had my flaws. But mostly, these sorts of interactions are why you are in intensive therapy now. And why I think you might want to have your therapist read this. It might help you to learn to work through your imperfections, and hopefully, this vicious cycle of imaginary animals taking imaginary bites of your family and friends will come to an end with your own families. I am sorry you had me as a mom. Not because I did such a bad job. But because I didn't have an imaginary spanking for you that day ;o) For that, and for all the other things I messed up, I am heartily sorry. PS The picture is my creative side doing nothing valid with my time while you were potty training. I think this is called an original fake of a style of art. Yes, I sat there, took pictures, and then photo shopped it until either it looked like something you might appreciate later in life, or you poo'ed. Either way, here it is. If you look closely, you might see the imaginary sheep there. (No, you don't see it? Me neither.)
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