The Chair And A Sister's Revenge

(Here’s another entry from my old blog. Enjoy.)
Siblings often fight with each other—I understand this fact of life because I have two sisters. And, boy, did we fight when we were kids. But as I witness the ongoing drama between my daughter and son
(which can escalate into a screaming match or a physical altercation), the muscles in my neck have morphed into an unbendable mass of knots. My husband tries to reassure me that all will end well, that they will resolve their differences without our intervention, so I should just relax. But, really, is that a reasonable expectation at this point in our lives as parents?
Masana and Mack are currently fighting over this beat up, smelly old mini recliner. They both have claimed it as their personal property and it keeps disappearing from one room and reappearing in the other. I constantly threaten to throw the chair out, but my son always starts to cry, which makes my daughter silently furious. I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that the boy is younger, or maybe because he’s so darn cute, but for whatever reason I am rendered useless as an authority figure when the tears start rolling down his cheeks. And Masana, ever the stoic older sibling, never resorted to tears to get her way. So she resents the way I cave every time her “cry baby” younger brother displays the waterworks.
So Masana, exasperated with the ineffective manner I handle Mack, has taken it upon herself to exact her revenge.

I found this picture on our digital camera: Mack is tightly wrapped inside my yoga mat. Does it look like he’s enjoying himself??
Of course the answer is no. I don’t know how Masana convinced him that it would be a fun thing to do, but she did. And then she took a picture of him. How cruel is that?
For all the silly boys that cross her path in years to come, let this be a warning: my daughter is NOT to be messed with.