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Those of you who have more than one boy in your family will know that brothers cannot stop touching each other. Pushing, poking, kicking, tripping, wrestling, tousling each other’s hair, you get the idea, right? It’s always something. The neverending chaos is enough to drive this peace-seeking soul out of her ever-lovin’ mind.
Once, when my little guy was just shy of three, we were baking something together that required us to separate the eggs. Patting myself on the back for making this an educational experience, and distracting myself from the inevitable cringe that comes with tiny hands slamming the egg into the side of the bowl, I explained, “We have to separate the eggs. Do you know what separate means?” To which he replied, “Don’t fight?”…
And another thought for “separated”: