Mousey Toys

Inspirational song: Most Toys (Marillion)

My daughters have gone home again, and I am left with the debris after the storm. There are Rock Band instruments strewn about the living room, half-empty bottles of wine that need to be emptied either into the sink or into me, and an explosion in the number of mousey toys scattered around as a gift from my younger daughter to the kitten. I loved having the girls here, but as always, the week went by far too quickly. It is really difficult for me, living farther than a short day's drive away from them. I'd like to be able to see them more often. I assume that over time this will get easier, but the first few years of them living away from me has been harder than I imagined.

I've been trying to decide what story would be best to tell from my girls' childhood. We made an awful lot of references this weekend to the day they decided to hide from us in their toy box, buried under stuffed animals and dress-up clothes. They tried so hard to stay undetected, but were helpless against the attack of the giggles that gave them away. But there just wasn't enough story from my perspective there, so I asked for ideas from the mischief-makers themselves. The younger suggested I tell one of our family legends, which has gone down in history as "some sort of wedgie incident." 

I was working at the library, when an email came from a very grumpy man, with the above vague description as a subject line. The man was fuming, explaining that both girls were currently sitting on their hands, with their noses against the wall, not allowed to look at each other or talk to each other while he calmed down. He had broken up a screaming, crying, duel to the death between the children, and tried to get a straight answer from a third grader and fourth grader about an alleged assault. The little one cried that her big sister had given her a wedgie, and it hurt. So, in loud, gruff daddy voice, he yelled her name, and asked, "Did you give your sister a wedgie?" Hiccuping and crying, she said yes. When he pressed for why, she went on, "She told me to!" It was the last thing he expected to hear, so he stumbled a bit, but eventually teased out the explanation that the younger child had heard about wedgies, but never experienced one, and so she decided to learn more about them. She demanded that her sister give her one, but sensing a trap, the older and wiser girl refused. So to force the issue, the younger girl gave her sister the first wedgie. At that point, the only honorable option was retaliation, and the second wedgie was given, this time in anger. And that's when the battle was fully engaged. 

I cannot possibly count how many declarations of war have happened between these two over the last twenty years. They will fight over the smallest, dumbest things, as if the survival of the human race depended on the outcome of the squabble. But a few hours later, they will be running around like the best of friends, their partnership reborn out of the ashes like phoenix chicks every single time. I think the fighting is what gives them strength, like the Wonder Twins rings of power. They are fascinating to be around, but being their parents is not for the faint of heart. Given the chance, hell, yes, I would move back to live in the same town with them in a heartbeat. I excel at this game too.