Sharing became the theme of the occasion. Clara had to be firmly coaxed to share the hose, the little plastic umbrella from her bath toy collection, and the play lawn mower. At one point, a comb made it's way outside from the bathroom. Clara stood under the water canopy and tried to comb her hair. Shar immediately and dexterously made a successful grab for it.
"Mine!" Clara squealed, her legs and arms going stiff and her baby fingers splayed like a villainess lusting for power. It's unfortunate that she has such cute little cheeks. At times like these, when they're flushed with rage, I just want to bite them.
"Shar," Kamilla (Shar's mom) chided. "That's Clara's comb. We don't grab things out of other people's hands." She wrested it away and gave it back to Clara. Shar bent her knees and let her upper torso become slack with despair. "I want it," she moaned, flopping her little round shoulders.
"Hey, Clara, you may have the comb for one more minute," I said, "And then it will be Shar's turn, okay? When we go to Shar's house, she lets us play with her toys. So we should let her play with ours." Clara glowered at me from beneath her bangs. "Nope," she said, but when her time was up, she obliged.
Later, as they were playing, Shar reached down and yanked a bunch of Clara's hair. It wasn't done out of maliciousness. Instead, she seemed interested to see what would happen. She seemed aware it was crossing a line somehow, and this was exciting. Clara wasn't hurt, only surprised. She was also interested to see what would happen.
"You need to tell Clara 'sorry,'" Kamilla said, after reproaching Shar in a admirably neutral voice. (She muttered to me, "This is a time-out offense.") Some part of me felt that we, the mothers, should explode with gesticulations of horror and shock, to give the little girls the good show they seemed to be seeking. For example, I could leap up on my patio table and shake the umbrella at the sky. Kamilla could howl and do cartwheels across the lawn.
Shar sighed. "I sorry," she said finally, puffing out her pink rosebud mouth a little.
"I think you should give Clara a hug," Kamilla continued evenly.
This proved to be harder than anticipated. Shar was standing and Clara was sitting. They both seemed unsure of how to navigate the embrace from such an awkward position.
"Maybe you should sit down next to Clara, and then give her the hug," Kamilla suggested.
Before Shar could move, however, Clara leaned her head softly against Shar's belly, and some approximation of an embrace was reached.
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