So, I'm laying on the sofa with the laptop beside me and a three year-old tucked in next to me. Why? Well, Chaya just wanted to sleep with Ima and Ima just wanted to get some writing done so this is our compromise. Compromise is a big word in our house.
Each of the girls have taken to voicing their opinions.
Usually at the same time.
Often conflicting.
And none of them "gets" that they don't all have to want the same thing to eat, play with, watch, do. So we work on compromise. And share. And, unfortunately, fair. Fair doesn't sound so bad until you have a toddler crossing her arms and stomping her foot while declaring, "that's not fair!"
Or kicking their legs and shouting to the world that it is their turn to choose.
Just when you think all is lost and you can't handle another moment of this, they giggle and laugh and hug and kiss each other. The sun seems a little brighter and you know you just might survive. Then you hear the magic words, "I love my baby sister Batya." "I love you Shira." "I love Chaya! I love Chaya!"
And all is right in the world. For the few moments before another choice has to be made.
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