I imagined, when I first went to feed ducks with my children that it would be a relaxing, pleasant way to spend an afternoon. In jaw clenching frustration, I watched the popular ducks picking on a lonely goth looking duck til he bled.
I never enjoy feeding ducks, great way to get rid of stale bread but don't enjoy it. They pick on each other, act territorial, bite and pull each others feathers out. The justice-o-meter in my soul wants to make it fair and safe for every duck in the pond. Oh yuck, them ducks ain't no better than us humans, what was I hoping for!
Since having the triplets, who are 20 months by the way, I find I have my own pond at home. Well, its more like a shark pool. As soon as the sharks see weakness they circle. Blocks, sippy cups or toy car in hand to clobber the weak member.
Today Claire, as she prefers now to be called, was giving Quinn a ride on the floor, bouncing her on her tummy. In walks Wilson, with a bucket over his head. (This is a 1 gallon bucket given to James because of his fetish with containers but beloved by all the babies. You can put stuff in it, it has a nice carrying handle and you can wear it as a head shield!) So Wilson takes the bucket off and accidentally drops it on CC, oops Claire, while she's laying on the floor. Claires crying, is the first proverbial drop of blood and the sharks need no more enticement than that to start circling, Wilson hits her again, all smiles, (where's your humanity?) James grabs a sippy cup and hits her and Quinny (who has just given her kisses) starts clocking her with a shoe. If I hadn't rescued Claires limp form from the floor she would be a bruised, unconscious mass even now.
Oddly, throughout the day the babies can tell who I am annoyed with, even if I am trying to hid it, who is getting sick, and who is being too whiney and they know to go after them, it's the strangest thing and it happens all the time. You cannot show weakness in this home. You cannot have a "tell". They will get you and drag you down to their same level of baby weirdness. Even now, I myself have a fat lip from a bungled pony ride attempt, but I was quick enough to climb onto the table with a broken broom handle for protection. I'm kidding. Well, I do have a fat lip...