You suck at sharing.
There, I said it. And, so bluntly, I might add. But, it's the general attitude I have toward your new inability to share.
In social settings, I always wanted you to be fair- toward others and toward yourself. I've written before the way you gave in or expressed fear and trepidation in groups broke my heart. I knew it was a lesson you'd have to endure, and eventually you'd learn to handle groups of your peers. Up until mid-summer, you were the shariest-sharer there ever was, and it made me proud. You consoled your littles with packs of fruit snacks, trucks, blankets, and baby dolls.
Not anymore. You cry and throw real-live fits if your friends take what's yours- even when you're supposed to be sharing. Daddy and I have given you free reign on two items that can be off-limits for anyone but you, and that's your NaNa and your stuffed Beagle. Those are your lovies, and it doesn't make sense for you to have to share. You have clearance.
But you DO have to share everything else. Every last thing. This battle we fight with you is just so hard, plain and simple. It makes you so mad- and sad. Perhaps you don't understand. In the midst of the biggest, most vocal battles, you look at me with fury in your eyes, and total sadness. You ask me why? and it makes me swallow a big lump every time. I try explaining to you it's because that's the way humans are. We share with each other. We give what we can, and we delight in this. It's hard. You're two. I'm torn. But, we're navigating this season of your life together.
At the State Fair two weeks ago, you were gifted a yellow, stuffed monkey from some teenaged boy who handed it to you near the midway. It was a simple, sweet gesture and you were delighted.
Well, someone else we know was delighted too.
The monkey is a chintzy, cheap one, and one of 25 stuffed pals you own. You didn't need it in your life, but it was yours nonetheless. You cried and threw a fit when we asked if the Beagle could have the monkey forever. He already sleeps with two blankets AND a stuffed moose, so we knew how much he already loved this one.
You ran to your bed and grabbed Curious George for offering instead. You understood the concept, but that wasn't fair. You would have missed George by bedtime. We kept gently pushing the topic, and finally, you relented.
That's not Lil' Dude's new monkey. That's Beagle's. For his bed.
That's right! We encouraged. You're such a big girl to share.
It appears we're making baby steps in this endeavor ... puppy steps, but still.
I'm proud of you!