We inflated a couple of balloons for the kids to bat around earlier in the day. And so the batting commenced.
Some time later Aaron angrily comes from the other room, clutching his balloon, telling me that “Maddie’s hitting my balloon.” I want him to handle it himself, so I say, “Tell her, ‘Stop it Maddie.'”
He begins to head off. Then he stops, and sees Maddie’s balloon is in this room. He takes a minute trying to hold his balloon while picking up her balloon. He looked like the bear gathering fish in Disney’s The Jungle Book, as one balloon would squeeze out when he grabbed the other. He eventually succeeds, though.
So he goes back to the other room precariously holding both balloons and says, “Here’s your balloon, Maddie. You hit your balloon.”
My son, the conflict resolver. So much for his dad’s stupid advice.
Who We Were Then
- Maddie (5 years old)
- Aaron (3 years old)