I popped N into the saucer today, told Q he could indeed play with her rattle, and walked into the kitchen as he joyously retrieved it. (He’s been told not to take it from her, but if she’s not playing with it, hey, that’s fine.)
An absolute scream of rage? pain? fury? (same as rage?) suddenly came from the living room and I whirled back in to see what the problem was as Q wanders out. I picked her up and she stops screaming.
Wondering aloud what the problem had been, J surmises that Q had whacked her with the rattle. I ask Q, “Q, why was N screaming?” After several tangents (not deliberate, this is just a lack of conversational technique), Q says, “I hurted her with the rattle.”
J had to gently inform Q that this was not ok while I turned my back and shook with laughter. So matter of fact.
He’s a very gentle little kid, but he’s getting bolder with her.