The Grands

Fonel and Dindley are what my two oldest grand-children call each other. They are 6 months apart, 3 and 2 1/2 years old, and intense competitors. Sunday they came to our house for lunch. Fonel with his parents and sister; Dindley's mother would come after work in the afternoon.

Dindley stayed at our house the night before because her Mom had to get up for the early shift. She turned a bar of soap into a security object after her bath, carrying it around and sleeping with it. We didn't let her take it into church the next morning. The bar of soap waited in the car, but the minute she got back to our house she rarely let go. When Fonel got here, he immediately lusted after her soap bar and so began many skirmishes - including pushing, shoving, roars of rage, and baring of teeth. We had reprimands, we had times out, we had counting, we had apologies.

I should explain that in our family there are "sharing" objects and there are special "non-sharing" items. The purpose is to teach children to share and to respect boundaries. Since we aren't Communists we think boundaries are important too. We had explained to Fonel that the bar of soap was a non-sharing item (It was functioning as a mother substitute after all!).

After lunch while we were chatting over coffee with all our guests, we heard a roar of pain. Fonel had stolen Dindley's bar of soap and in a rage Dindley had clocked her cousin on the head with a mini hot pink dumbbell (she likes to carry that around too), trying to commit sobrinuscide* in defense of her "mother," the bar of soap. The mercy was - no concussion or broken nose. Once this was all settled, I asked Fonel if he would like his own bar of soap to lug around for the rest of the day (Granny has a duh moment). "Yes," says he. So I gave him one. I suspect his bar of soap meant, "I'm now equally empowered." They ran around the house cheerfully for an hour and abandoned the soaps when they left for home.



I just don't know. I was so glad when she quit lugging around an oval lump of granite that she called her "baby turkey." I was afraid she'd drop it and break her toe. So far some of her security objects have been a lump of granite, a pink puppy, a nutmeg grater, a baby doll, a pink dumbbell, and a bar of soap. I hate to think what she'll choose when she's 5. Poor Fonel.



Then sometimes they see each other and run, shouting, "Fonel!!! Dindley!!!" and the result is this photo.

* I just made that up. It means "maternal cousin" + "kill" in Latin.