The girls are 7 now. I really would have thought that, having reached this age in development that we would be blessedly passed certain, shall we say, undesirable behaviors.
It would seem not.
Given two toys, which are exactly the same in every single way, these two will fight like gladiators.
"She took mine!" Ashlyn growls.
"No. It's MINE!" screeches Caedance at a tremendously high pitch.
("Girls, please let's not fight over the doll. You both have the same one.")
"Give it to me. Now." Ashlyn is sneering now; lip curled, eyebrows furrowed, stance widened and ready for attack.
"It's mine, sister." Caedance straightens herself up to her full height, which currently falls just 1/4 inch shorter than Ashlyn. Chest out. Shoulders back. Poised to intimidate.
("Girls. You are fighting over two dolls that are exactly the same. If you must fight, choose something that at least makes sense. This doesn't make any at all.")
Did I mention the toys in question are identical? I'm not stupid, you know. I know better than to order or purchase two different anythings right now. Nope. These two Peach Dolls (from Mario Brothers) are the same. Twins, you might laughingly say.
But I dare not laugh. No I do not. I am watching the epic battle gearing up in front of me. Who will win? Will it be the curly headed one with the snarl. Or perhaps the curly headed one striking the pose?
Really. It's the SAME toy.
I could sit back and let them settle this. Duke it out. Swat at each other till it's all done. Maybe bite. I don't honestly know what exactly they would do.
I do know that they are 7 years old and I had really hoped we'd be somewhat past this incredibly banal stage of Mine-No-Mine. But I was wrong. So I shall settle the mess in the only way I have patience for in this exact moment in time.
I swoop in to the battleground, firmly planting myself between the troops. Ashyn is still stooped with the snarl on her face. Caedance is still taking the walled approach. Both are emitting some strange growling sound, although Caedance's is much higher and whinier. In one mighty motion I reach forth and sweep both Peach dolls from their grasps, swooshing them up and out of sight.
Both girls drop the snarls and look at me in disbelief.
Perhaps they thought Peach had grown magic and flown away.
Perhaps, with their prey out of sight, the predator forgot what the fight was about.
Perhaps they were just stunned for a moment to have mom intervene.
But I did.
("Peach will be going away now, my cherubs. Both of them. Like your mother, they tire of the fighting. Especially since, like me, they have no clue what exactly you're fighting about. They agree that they are EXACTLY the same. So they are off to a land where children don't fight over them and will return, perhaps, some other day.")
Goodbye, Peach. It's been real.....well...loud having your here.
So now the Peach dolls sit and wait.
We'll try it again another day.
Really, they are honestly the same doll. How do they even KNOW which one they've got?