I swear my kids are trying to kill me with mental exhaustion and confusion. How do I know? This just happened:
Alex: “Jack, it’s not fair that you have all the stuff that goes with the Lego guys.”
Mommy: “Jack, you need to share that stuff with brother; you’ve had it for over a week.”
Jack: “I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS! I’M NOT LISTENING TO ALL THIS!”
Mommy rifles through the hoarder’s Lego loot and starts taking out Alex’s things.
Alex: “I don’t want to play with that right now.”
Mommy leaves the room to look for a dull knife to put in her eye.
(Bellowed from the other room) Jack: “Now it’s broken! You broke it ALEX! And I don’t know how to fix it.”
Alex: “It’s my toy! I don’t want to play with you anymore!”
Mommy comes back to Lego hell and picks up the broken ambulance.
Jack: “I can do it myself! You don’t know how to do it.”
Mommy retreats to the quiet of putting away clean laundry and humming soothing sounds to herself.
Jack: “I can’t fix this. I need Daddy.”
Mommy: “Well, I offered, but what do I know? I’m just your mother. Daddy won’t be home for a long time.”
Jack: “I’ll just wait for Daddy.”
Alex: “Jack? Will you help me build a boat like yours?”
Jack: “Sure! That will be great.”