Sandbox Sympathy: The Art of Sharing

Mimi may only be 16 months old, but she already has a motto: "Share Nothing"

This unfortunate and honestly rather embarrassing credo of Mimi's has been in place for some time.  We first noticed it back in New York when she'd take to bossing children 3 times her size and 5 times her age.  Now in San Francisco, the city of peace and love, Mimi is blatantly rebelling against the spirit of her new city by wrenching toys from the hands of her unsuspecting cousins, swiping remote controls from her parents, and hoarding hotel shampoo bottles in her bunny basket.  And when you ask her about it you never get a straight answer.  She just babbles some excuse, generally "Bookah, bookah, bookah, boooo, dido, dido, dido, dido, ahhhhh?" and then toddles to the other room to rifle through my wallet. 

Mimi's approach to sharing is particularly challenging, at least for me, when we visit the park.  Our outing yesterday began well.  Mimi tackled the stairs of the small slide independently, even making way for other children as they scrambled past.  Here she is at the bottom of the slide. 

And what do you think it is she's reaching for?  My iPhone, of course.  And she didn't get it because I'd never get it back.  This caused a "misunderstanding" between us.  I said, "No."  Mimi said, "Ahhhrrr!"  It was time to find a new activity.

With Mimi still objecting to my cruel monopolization of her iPhone, we walked to the "deep end" of the sand box.   There we were lucky enough to come across a bucket and some scoops.  Mimi was overjoyed.  20 straight minutes scooping, sorting, spreading, and dumping went effortlessly by.  I even got to check my e-mail. 

We almost always come across sand toys when we go to a park.  Often they have been left behind - a kind of community donation.  They're generally in poor shape, but still hold sand, and that's all Mimi needs.  Unfortunately, the ones Mimi was playing with belonged to a sweet little girl and her mother who, in the midst of Mimi's playtime, had to go home.  It was time for us to go as well, so I handed them back to the kind and considerate family.  Mimi, however, was not pleased.

As I attempted to bundle her into the stroller she let forth a stream of obscene baby babble that, if translated into "adult," would've been banned from all the major television networks, Showtime, HBO, and even Howard Stern.  Maury Povich may have let it slide - like he has his career - but that's about it. 

Embarrassed at the situation, I looked over and saw the little girl who had loaned us the bucket was concerned about Mimi.  She looked downright sad for her.  And she couldn't have been more than three.  Inaudibly she must have asked her mom about it because I heard the response, "She'll be alright, honey."  It was a mere 5 seconds after that comment that I finished preparing Mimi's bottle and popped it into her wailing mouth.  Silence and smiles prevailed.  The little girl looked relieved and her mother commented on the miraculous power of milk.  The outing ended on a good note all around.

I'm sure that Mimi will learn to share in time, but I'm beginning to think it's going to take a lot of patience and guidance on behalf of her parents.  She's looking out for number one right now.  I've a feeling a younger brother or sister may seriously challenge that approach.  For the better.  

Lastly, I'd just like to thank all the American Dairy Board for their excellent work.  I, for one, am deeply and humbly in their debt.