It's 4:30 Tuesday afternoon, and I call home from work to tell our babysitter which train I'll be taking. Sabrina picks up.
"Hi, babycakes!" I say. "Are you having a good day?"
"Yes," she says, sullenly. I sense a temper tantrum coming on, and those are impossible to deal with by phone (where's the app for that?!), so I sidestep it.
"Great!" I say. "Can I speak with Linnette?"
Linnette is our babysitter/resident saint.
"Linnette's not talking to me," says Sabrina.
"Sabrina, why is Linnette not talking to you?" I ask.
"I'm being bad," Sabrina says.
And then she unleashes a torrent of words about how Max was playing on his keyboard and Sabrina tried to "help" him only Max got mad and then Linnette told her to step away from him only, Sabrina exclaims, "I wasn't doing anything!"
And so it goes. Lately, the sibling rivalry is out of control. When I walk in the front door, Sabrina dashes up to me and says Max has been pulling her hair. "Eeee-yah!" says Max, gleefully, and proceeds to grab a handful of her hair in a death grip. I have to pry his fingers off one by one.
"Waaaaaaaah," wails Sabrina, and collapses on the couch.
A few minutes later:
"Maaaa-aaaax doesn't like purple!"
"Maaaa-aaaax doesn't like Cars 2!"
"Maaaa-aaaax doesn't like C!" [His best bud at school.]
Max roars. Literally. He runs over to Sabrina's violin case on the coffee table and pushes it off.
"Waaaaaaah!" wails Sabrina.
[Repeat, repeat, repeat]
I am not sure why the intensity of the sibling rivalry surprises me.
Pray that they do not maim each other.