Scene at my house last week:

Big Sister was playing with her Little Brother. Well, actually, they weren’t playing “together;” they were just sharing the same space. I was in the kitchen cooking dinner when I heard her scream at him, “No, Brother! That’s mine! I want that!” Walking into the playroom, I understood what had happened. She was contently playing with some dolls. He had been playing with some blocks, but then he saw it—the Magna Doodle. From the looks of the screen, he’d only barely got a start at drawing, but as soon as she saw him playing with something that she’d identified as “hers,” she lost it. She was perfectly happy with the toys she had, until she saw him playing with something else. She didn’t care about that Magna Doodle at all. Hadn’t played with it in months. That is, until Brother got it. After a few minutes of tears, I finally got her calmed down. We talked about it. I asked her why she got so upset. “Because he was playing with that toy and I wanted to play with it!” she whimpered. More tears. “But Sister, you were having so much fun playing with your dolls when Brother was playing with is blocks.” She thought for minute: “But, Mom! It just isn’t fair! That toy is too big for Brother!” I explained, “Then maybe you could show him how to use it. You’re the Big Sister.” That won her over (as it usually does because she LOVES being the Big Sister). Finally, the crisis was solved, peace was restored, and dinner was made.