I saw a side of my son last weekend that has previously never shown itself to the light of day. This formerly unseen angle, while admittedly kinda cute at first (in the way only parents can find even the naughtiest of acts endearing when first seen) soon became relentless! Yes, we have heralded in the arrival of the “mine” into Harrison’s vocabulary – and everything is fair game!

Who did argue back however, was his big cousin Logan. And this was how the glimpse came to be seen…

Last weekend the Webecks packed up their Central Coast sideshow and went forth to the big smoke of Sydney (we can say that now we don’t officially call the city our home). The Stewarts of course played our most humble hosts and 24 hours later of visiting bliss and the boys (Logan & Harrison) former friendship became seriously fractured.

For the next 48 hours all we would hear it a rhetorical conversation that went along the lines of this:

Harrison (seizing a train in each hand, and clutching them protectively to his chest): would declare “My train. My train!”

Logan (whirling around in disgust and snapping down to be eye level with his wayward cousin) would instantly retort: “No Harrison, that’s not your train AT ALL” and yes, the AT ALL was in capitals and was issued with all the intensity that a parent might admonish a naughty child with. In fact this little saying became the theme to the weekend… And so it continued, just insert car/book/cup etc into the item so desired by Harrison, and so owned by Logan.

So we see their bond has boundaries. And a time frame… 24 hours and all is well – a minute over (or two days over as was the day here) and there will be blood. Whether it be mine or Sheree’s (my fellow referee), who knows. Harrison the provoker has learnt to push his big cousin’s buttons it would seem…

Sheree’s solution to all of this – give him a sibling and he’ll learn to share. My thought though is I’ll give him a brother or sister and he’ll decide he has a legitimate fight on his hands. His turf will be seriously compromised, and, like any territorial creature of comfort, he’ll go on the attack. And I’ll be left wielding the ref’s whistle sun up til sun down! Surely it cant damage his days in adulthood if we leave him be as an only child? Just to save Mummy’s sanity?