Little big boy reaches into little sister’s bowl and scoops up some yogurt and cereal and says, “Look Mom. I’m sharing with sister”. Sister continues eating and doesn’t seem at all bothered by his foraging. Boy is smiling.
I think we have to work on the definition a bit more.
Later in the day, little girl has the two monkeys. Little boy wants one. He hands her his pretend cell phone which she takes and he proceeds to unpeel her grip on one of the monkeys. She acquiesces. He tells me he has shared.
I again think that the definition of sharing needs some fine tuning.
In the afternoon, sister is pushing the yellow dump truck with the monkeys in it. Little boy sees her and runs over and puts his cell phone in the back with the monkeys. I’m about to comment on how well they are playing together when I realize he has taken control of the dump truck and left her behind with a monkey on her lap. She didn’t complain, but I think it’s because he was so sly.
“Give her the dump truck”, I instruct and I raise my eyebrows. He says, “It’s MY dump truck. Birthday present from Grandma”. This is all true and it is his, but at our house we share and everyone can play with it. He takes it back, but now she is stacking monkeys on the books and doesn’t want it back. So I guess he can use it.
Somehow that scenario did not feel very good.
And then tonight she has her teddy bear and he wants it. He tries to take it. She resists. He says, “Mom! Sister isn’t sharing. It’s my turn.”
What do I say to that?