All for One, and One for All?

We've banned the word "mine" in our home. I expect to hear it from the 2-year-old, but it was the 9-year-old's constant use of it that put us over the edge.

"That's mine," Luke yelled when is brother, half his age, came to breakfast wearing an old Megatron costume.

I pointed out that the costume had not fit him since his last growth spurt, the one that's made him tall enough for all the rides at Great America. I added that it was great that TJ was putting the costume to good use, dressing as the megalomaniac character from Transformers to devour his scrambled eggs and sausage.

Later that same day, TJ, always resourceful and curious (read: sneaky and nosey), found a box of very cool Micro Fliers given to Luke a few years ago, and wanted to build some of the planes. Knowing it was Luke's, and knowing that might be a problem, I suggested that TJ and I play them together and have Luke join us when he got home from school.

My bad.

Upon returning from school and seeing us building the Micro Fliers, the older brother screamed, "Those are mine. You are ruining them."

Gosh, I thought we were playing with them. Don't you want to play with them, I asked Luke. "No, I want to keep them nice."

Clearly, I've got bigger problems if that's what he really thinks. Is there a Future Hoarders of America he could join at school?

So I've stopped trying to make things 'fair,' when it comes to managing the material wants and desires of my three boys. Their toys and games no longer have my protection. You don't want your brother to play with that? Too bad. Jealous of that birthday gift Aunt Jen gave your brother? Don't worry, he'll share. No excuses, no exceptions.

The toy room is open for business, and I suspect things might get a little rough.