Now, Luna and Hana get along about 95% of the time. So, whenever we hear crying and stompy feets, Robin and I say, “Ah, it’s the five percent.”
For example, this morning I saw Luna carrying her crying sister determinedly across the living room. I figured it was my duty as their father to intervene.
“Whatcha doin’ there, Luna?”
“Don’t stop me Daddy! Hana is going to baby jail.”
“Yes! It is a jail for babies!”
“No, I gathered that. Why?”
“She was eating my baby sheep!!”
I’ve told Luna a hundred times not to leave her toys on the ground where Hana can get to them. Anything in her radius gets covered in baby drool.
Now, why Luna chose the stuffed animals over Hana’s actual playpen, I’ll never know…