…so mad

Its simply unthinkable to me that anyone could not love this sweet little Peanut face on the left. That you just wouldn’t want to squeeze her and slobber on her and tickle her because her laugh is so hysterical and her smile is so infectious. Except I don’t have to go far to find someone who loathes my little Princess. With every fiber of his being, the Count wishes his sister gone. Banished. Sent to the woods to live with some dwarves and a poison apple. The jealousy around here has gotten down right nasty. And as a mother, I’m at my wits end.

Count Waffles the Terrible will not tolerate being anywhere near his sister. She’s not allowed to touch anything. She’s not allowed to crawl toward him or his things. She’s not even allowed to speak. Lately, when Princess Peanut gives out a little hello in the form of a “aaahhhgggaaaaaaaa!” to her brother, the Count screams back, angrily, in her face. He’s taken to pushing her. He’s taken to knocking her over while she, still unsteady, stands clinging to the ottoman or stairs. He’s even taken to hitting her. All of this means he’s in trouble. A lot. A lot A lot. And I just can’t take it anymore. Outside of issues with his sister, he’s the sweetest child on earth. He’s the quiet, shy one. I swear. Really.

I’ve tried giving him more one on one attention. I’ve tried reasoning with him. I’ve tried every trick in the book, including bribery (i.e. play nice with your sister and there’s a cookie in it for you) and manipulation. Nothing doing. I even harbored hope that with Nana’s recent visit and all the gifts she would bring and extra hands to go around he’d be happy to have his baby sister around. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Silly Queen. Nana got Princess a baby doll. Nana got the Count a Thomas game. The Count took his Thomas game and screamed bloody murder over his sister’s joy at the doll. Nana was supposed to be my savior for the week. Instead, the sibling issue was worsened.

Of course its only natural for a mother to want her children to love one another. But its all the more heartbreaking for me because my little baby Peanut so, so, so, so, soooooooooooo wants her brother. She beams if he even comes near her. She squeals with delight if he happens to accidentally smile at her. All she wants is his love. And I’ll be damned if he doesn’t seem to know this and use it against her. That Bonnie Rait song “I can’t make you love me” keeps going through my head. Its awful.

So I’ll continue to try and give those extra hugs and kisses and special time to the Count. And he’ll continue to be sent to the thinking chair for cracking his sister over the head with god knows what. And maybe, when they are much, much older, I’ll catch them hug at Christmas or something and be reminded how they went through this “phase” in their early years.

Or maybe I’ll just prepare now for the endless “she’s touching me!” and “Mom…make him stop!” and “Tell her to get off the phone now!” and “He won’t share the blocks!” and so on. And so on. And so on.

I’m really very sure this is how so many Moms end up on valium and bloody mary’s all day. I wish I were kidding.