Spag and Bol’s t-towel and trolley war

Monday, September 7 ‘09

Sibling squabbles were frequent in the Bennet household despite the fact there were now more rooms to escape to. Mrs Bennet dived into the shoe cupboard now and then so she didn’t hear the “Mummy she hit me!” and “And she deliberately scribbled on my drawing!” Mrs Bennet realised the quarrelling was part of her life for the foreseeable future. The more children you have, the more likely at some part in the day, one combination or another will fall out, sit on each other, stick a tongue out or want the same toy/book at the same time.
Spag and Bol, the little Twin Bennets were having a tug of war with a t-towel. Sitting in their respective blue booster seats with matching brown beards due to a chocolate pudding indulgence, they both wanted to hold the rather faded, holey t-towel. Spag (alias Rosie), being somewhat bigger all round was winning as Bol (alias Kezia) was being lifted a few inches out of her chair, yet refusing to let go. The shouts were getting louder in the dining room. The giggles were getting louder in the adjoining, open plan kitchen. Mr and Mrs Bennet, amused by Miss Bennet Number Four and Five’s sudden fascination for a scraggly t-towel, were quite enjoying the spectacle; waiting in the wings to rescue the smaller twin who looked like she was about to fly across the room with a blue plastic seat attached to her bottom. She may have lost in strength, but she made up for it in cheek and charm. And the one nil down score only sought to give her extra determination to get even with her 20-minute-older sister.
The revenge came during a shopping episode. Mrs Bennet, having failed in her search for a double-seated trolley, decided to walk her toddlers in with the help of Jannie, her lovely mum. This was fine until Bol, with her extra vigilant eyes, spotted a mini trolley parked in the entrance ready for potential two-year-old shoppers. She ran to it, claimed it as her own, and grinned victoriously at Spag, who realising there wasn’t a trolley for her, threw her faithful battered and well-loved rabbit on the floor in disgust and herself down with it. Mrs Bennet wanted to leave them to it; pretend they didn’t belong to her and walk out. Only they did belong to her and the supermarket staff knew they did too. Bol had got her revenge. And despite pleas from both Mrs Bennet and Jannie; and screams from Spag, Bol refused to let go of the said trolley and pushed it round the aisles…and occasionally into people….with a vice grip.
Whilst Mrs Bennet understood her elder twin’s upset at the unfairness of life, she couldn’t magic another tiny trolley to appear and neither could the staff. Trying to reason with a two-year-old who was sobbing was like trying to find a minute precious ring stone in the midst of a batch of bread dough. As Mrs Bennet knew from bitter experience, you just had to wait until cooking time was over.
Half an hour later, another trolley was delivered to a now pacified twin who was sitting quietly, trying to get a straw into a bottle of water in the café area. Mrs Bennet was taking refuge in her forgotten friend Mr Latte, who on occasions such as this had become a firm companion for Jannie too. The war had ended. Peace between the twins was momentarily made. And side by side they pushed their matching trolleys up the wide aisles, chatting amicably to one another, creating smiles and not too much havoc as they went. Although Mrs Bennet was sure she didn’t put Cock-a-leekie or Oxtail soup on her shopping list! The twin tug-o-war score: one each to Spag and Bol. Mummy nil.