It’s so unavoidable. At some point, no matter how much our two boys love each other, they will fight and tear each other apart.
My sister and I used to fight like this. She, who had finger nails that had not been bitten to a nub like mine, would sink her talons into me. I, however, would go for the hair pulling. One good fistful was enough to do memorable damage. I even kicked a hole through her bedroom door once. In my defense, it was quite flimsy construction and I doubt I put much effort into it.
And even though Ollie is only slightly over a year old, the sharing of the toys battle has commenced. Orion constantly insists that we either put Oliver down for a nap, in his high chair, or in his play pen to prevent him from meddling with Orion’s precious stuff. Oliver, however is a growing, moving boy that no longer wants to be contained. So, let the fighting begin. Mommy will learn to referee to the best of her abilities and keep them alive.
Here is a loving, strangling Valentine’s day pose with the two little darlings. I sure do love ’em.
