Two Job Mama

We sat curled into each other on the bed, Grace a puddle of tears and anguish.

"Mom, she HATES me! Lauren HATES me!"

"No she doesn't honey, she loves you. She just says that to make you upset. Shhhh, it's okay sweetie."

How does a 3 year old know just what to do to get her sister's goat? I wonder. Where did she learn this?

"She hates me mom!" More tears. "And she keeps on saying that stupid thing about her garden.... it drives me NUTS! Make her stop!"

"Oh honey," I say. "Just ignore her. She's using her imagination. I know it's kind of weird, but it doesn't bother me. Just try to walk away if it bothers you."

"WHY!? WHY doesn't it bother you," Grace nearly shrieks. Her face is tear stained, her nose running. "And why (sniffle) does Lauren keep saying she doesn't liiiiike meeeeee?!"

She buries her head in my torso. I stroke her hair and wonder what to say. Lauren doesn't hate her. Far from it. But Lauren doesn't need her big sister's approval either. And she seems to take a mean little delight in tormenting her. Secretly I think it's a little bit funny. But Grace is Lauren's polar opposite: sweet where Lauren is stubborn, kind where Lauren is, well... not. I don't know how to explain why siblings torment each other any more than I know why, when my sister and I were kids, I used to pretend I was dead until she would start to cry in fear and panic. How do you explain mental torture to someone who would never even conceive of performing it?

As I rock Grace gently and try to shhhsh her into quiet Lauren nimbly climbs up onto the bed and presses herself against me.

"Mom," she stage whispers. "I need to tell you sumpting."

"What is it Lauren," I ask.

"I was sitting in my garden and I saw puwple biwd."

"AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!" Grace flings her self up, over and then facedown in the opposite direction at the foot of the bed.

I swear, I tried not to laugh.