Son #2 sat beside Son #1 and enviously watched as Son #1 wound his way through paper mazes. Son #2 reached out his hand toward the marker and thought. "Gimme. Mine."
Son #1 moved the marker away from his brother's chubby, little hand and continued to work on his task.
Son #2 leaned forward and reached as far as he could toward the enchanting paper and marker. His facial expression said. "Gimme, gimme, gimme. Mine."
So determined.
Son #1 ignored him and scooted closer to his abuelita.
On Son #2's third attempt to pilfer the coveted toys, Son #1 exclaimed. "Hey little baby! Stop trying to get my stuff!"
This is how sibling rivalry begins.
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