This morning Rose taunted David with her purple bear. He really lost it when she shoved it under her bedroom door then pulled it back. I was not speaking in a nice voice when I told her to stop it. By the time Rose left for school, David was out of control, screaming, crying.

I thought, what if I told him we should sneak into Rose’s room and grab that bear? It had some appeal. But I passed on it. Instead I said, “David, Rose told me she wanted you to play with the bear after she left.”

What a nice sister you have. We aren’t doing anything wrong. Nobody here but us chickens.

The tears stopped immediately. David raced upstairs and quickly found the bear buried in the animal heap. I had a moment of stress wondering if I could get it back in exactly the same position, but basically my risks were low. David can say “bear” but “I chewed on the bear’s ear after you expressly forbid me to touch it” just isn’t in his vocabulary.

And Mathew, I’ll be removing this entry before she’s old enough to navigate the web.