I was recently sat in the kitchen when I heard the earth shattering sound of my two daughters thundering down the stairs accompanied by screams of “it’s mine, you took it from me”, “but I neeeeeeeddd it”, “give it back, NOW”.
What could this precious object be I wondered? What coveted item could elicit such a response and pit sister against sister? As they came clattering into the kitchen, red faced, panting and still tousling, I asked what exactly it was that they were fighting over. Surely a magical toy, an electronic device, a much loved dolly or some other expensive gift that has been lavished upon them at a Christmas/birthday/occasion of bribery?
No; a nit comb.
That’s right, they were fighting to the death over a nit comb.
It was at that moment that I realised 1) that my kids can fight over ANYTHING and 2) that this is my life now. I have, over the last few years, developed my own set of tactics for minimising the opportunities for such
fracases fraci fricasees, arguments. When choosing the colours of anything (ranging from items as trivial as dinner plates to as lavish as computer tablets) they get exactly the same. Inevitably they will need to be marked with their name so that when one gets lost or broken they can’t both lay claim to the good one.
At one point they both settled upon their own favourite colour; one wanted everything purple, the other green – perfect! Every new item was purchased according to their own determined colour identity. Until the younger decided that she didn’t like green anymore and then we were back to square one (actually worse than that as she didn’t like any of the green things she already had).
Even our cutlery has to be the same because they fight over getting the ones with the love heart at the end (we have 2 sets but woe betide should someone accidently use a love heart spoon for a yoghurt earlier in the day – we have had to retrieve them from the dishwasher before today to attempt to create some dining harmony).
I never thought the day would come when I would know how many sausages there are in a tin of spaghetti hoops with sausages (there are 8 – 4 each) or have to audit the sweets to make sure they are equal in terms of quantity, colour and form and that when baking each stands equidistant to the bowl and that there are 2 spoons to lick at the end (if indeed they make it to the end before licking ensues).
Of course, me and my sister always co-existed in perfect harmony. Possibly.
Oh well, suppose I ought to go out and buy another (identical) nit comb… *sighs*
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