"You are a pirate," says the 13 year old to the 8 year old, who folds her arms and glares at him.
"I am not!"
"You are a pirate."
"I am not!"
"You are a pirate."
"I am not!"
Sometimes I listen to conversations like this for a long time; they go on and on and the dialogue continues without variation. Sometimes I intervene, advising one party to quit bothering the other "or else" meaning I will count, and the end of which counting some treasured pastime, like computer time, will be revoked.
The usual result of such interventions is that the warring parties construct an immediate alliance: they are now friends and I am very uncool. This has many variations. When my daughter had another run-in with some friends who were fighting over her . . . I never realized how much being a popular child could become stressful . . . I finally told her I thought we should call her teacher and get some help. This after many tears, much discussion of how she didn't have to be in some club her friends wanted to have every recess, and an unwise promise on my part not to tell anyone. Finally I said we had to let her teacher know--"your teacher was a girl once, too, and she knows all about girls and the fights they have. None of this will surprise her."
"Noooooo, Mommy!"
"I love you very much and you will feel much better, I promise." As soon as I told her I'd discussed her friends with the teacher, my daughter wanted to hit me. "And I'll break your finger!" All the way home from school it was "Give me your finger, mommy! I'm going to break it." (When had my little angel started hanging out with Tony Soprano?) She was furious, but I had the feeling she was relieved I'd told the teacher. And furious that she was relieved. Breaking Mommy's finger can seem like a really good idea under such circumstances.
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