Brothers in arms

I remember when I was new to having kids, and Greg explained to me how Steve's responses could be plotted on a broad spectrum based on the nature of the screaming.  And it turned out to be true; there are many flavors of crying, and each tantrum by its tone and timbre is richly invested with meaning.  Sometimes I respond not at all.  Sometimes I find my decision-making triggered in such haste that it's minutes later that I find myself playing it back:  Did I really hurdle the couch?  I didn't even know I could do that.  And how much time did that save, really?  And now Darby has taught me a brand new variety:  the my-brother-took-my-toy scream.  We didn't get to hear that one as Casey grew up, and so we haven't known what we were missing.  But we sure hear it now.  Darby graces us with that one enough that we know it quite well.  We can tell from rooms away what just happened.  Usually, Casey has stolen the drumsticks, which lately are Darby's favorite objects.

So, sibling rivalry.  The friction continues to grow, and I just don't know how to handle it.  Hurting Darby is, of course, the cardinal sin in Casey's world, and correction on those occasions is swift and merciless.  But sometimes I watch to see how they work things out, and as Darby grows, he's becoming more and more capable of defending himself.  He's still easily outmuscled by his brother, which can be a problem, but sometimes they just play that way, Casey pulling Darby to the ground and Darby giggling and scrambling back to his feet.  It takes some supervision so they aren't knocking their own heads together, but I feel like they need some leeway for that stuff.  They're brothers, they'll enjoy it in the long run.  Right?

For some reason, I keep thinking of my sister knocking my two front baby teeth out of my head.  We worked it out eventually.

Last night I had the kids upstairs while Erika had a little space to herself in the family room.  We've been getting out the boxes again as we prepare to move from the apartment to a new house, and Casey's fascinated by the process, always making helpful suggestions on what to pack and how and where.  And so Erika was treated to the following exchange:

"Daddy, can we tape this box now?"

"What?  No, we're not packing Darby."

When I first started packing, Casey wanted to start with the cats.  We're not moving for three weeks.  Do I have to worry about this?