Gentle... Gentle... Ah Screw It, Go Ahead And Kill One Another

Trying to teach a toddler boy the meaning of "be gentle" is an exercise in futility. Its about as exasperating as digging a hole in sand along the surf line. And equally as useless.

No matter HOW many times I repeat my mantra of "gentle Ben, gentle, be nice", I get that ornery little smile... right before he does the opposite of what I'm asking.

And rather than curb Bennett's ornery ways, Sterling is starting to duplicate them.

About 2 years ago I broke her of biting, hair pulling, and hitting. But the awesome part is that she is now meeting him bite for bite. And today I caught her with a handful of his hair, maniacal gleam of satisfaction in her eyes, yelling "We OK mom, we OK!"

Uh, sure you are kid. Except for the huge bald spot on the side of your brother's head now, and the fact that he's screaming bloody murder.

Not that he didn't deserve it, but still, as a mom I feel like I'm under some obligation to stop such antics.

Or at least not snicker under my breath that he's getting fair return on his investment. 

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