Mine!

"Miiiiiiiiinnnne!"

It's the new phrase that pays around here. My Little Guy is discovering his voice and learning to lay claim to the things he loves. I am pretty sure Girlie didn't shriek that particular word until she was much older, but then she was an only at the time and didn't have to fight a bossy six year old for her favorite toy.

The thing is, I totally get it. I have to stop myself from yelling the same exact phrase when one of the kids riffles through my purse, or tosses all of the pillows off of the sofa, or runs off with my hairbrush (after swishing it in the toilet, of course). Most of the time, my personal space doesn't exist and my belonging are up for grabs. The only things that are "mine" are the dirty clothes. No one seems to lay claim to the crumpled socks and undies, even the dog.

But somehow I have to teach these children to share, speak nicely, and do onto others. It's a tough task, and half of the time I am not sure if I am up to it for the long haul. Raising decent human beings is an arduous undertaking requiring patience and perseverance, and I am so much more of an instant results kind of gal. It will take decades to know if I have made the right choices, conveyed the values I hoped, and even then I may never know.

Yet, I try my best. I remind the Little Guy that he must say please and learn to ask for things nicely. I tell him to take turns and then show him how it's done. I compliment both of the children when the stars align and they get it right. I even suppress the urge to have a tantrum when they don't (usually).