Hello, everyone. And welcome back.

Today’s topic is sharing, but as those of you who have more than one kid know, the concept is hardly cut and dried, even within the walls of a single home.

Let’s review the interpersonal landscape of the barn:

Alden is almost six and old enough to understand the basic logic of sharing. If someone else wants to play with your toy, it’s good to let them have it for a while. Not only is it nice to do so, but they might actually share with you, too. Benevolence and utility in one neat package.

Kato just turned four and gets the benefits of sharing at a core level but can’t always move past that moment of emotional duress that accompanies actually handing your prized belonging to another kid. Or the frustration of wanting what the other kid has and not being willing to wait for that kid to give it up. He has the tools but is not yet qualified to use them in the workplace.

August is barely two and is, frankly, a rather generous kid. When asked nicely, he will usually share, mostly because he seems to enjoy the smiles that result on the other end of the exchange. But when he does not want to share, no amount of persuasion will change his mind. His logic: that’s mine and not yours. Alternately: that’s yours, but I don’t care. I want it.

All this makes sense developmentally, but herein lies the problem. Alden, who tries to be good and rule-following, often gets the raw end of the deal when it comes to a conflict over belongings that need to be sorted out by Robbi or me. We usually intervene when a crisis has already reached the boiling point, which is to say, without a complete picture of the precipitating facts. If August is involved, our interest in getting involved has probably been piqued by the crazily loud and high-pitched pig squeal he has perfected as a means of deterring any challenge to his will.

And the problem is, it usually works. Robbi and I are often so motivated to stop the horrible sound, that we will ask (or demand) that the older kids defer to August’s whim, even if the result is not technically fair.

We may try to reason that “he’s just a baby” or “he doesn’t know any better” or “you’re such a big girl; can’t you let him have his way this once?”

But the truth is, we just want that sound to stop. In which case, aren’t we just playing into his evil plans, thwarting true justice, and letting the squeaky wheel prevail?

The question is this: how do you deal with issues surrounding sharing in your family? And the sliding scale of fairness by age? I’m looking for pointers here, people. And empathy. And anecdotes about the truly horrible sounds (and other tactics) your children unleash to get what they want.

Share your thoughts in the comments below. Together, maybe we can figure this out.