My son likes nothing better than to play in his sister's room. She has so many little cubby's and clutches filled with Barbie shoes and half sucked cough drops (when asked, I was told that since they are "spicy" they take two or three sessions to finish). It is like a treasure trove for the under four set. I do my best to keep Tennessee out of Lucy's room, but he loves it so. Besides, she feels free to enter his room, take his things then tell him what to do with them. As things tend to be in an older sister younger brother relationship.
At the moment, I am using his fascination with her room to get a minute to write this and ice my arms. I have been carrying a sick saggy sad boy all day. I don't usually go in for the all day baby haul around, but he is very sick and snotty. I can either carry him, or listen to his hollering and sorrow. As I am also sick, and my ears feel as though I am under the ocean much farther than is safe, I choose the quiet of carrying.
He is very happy up there. From the sound of it, he is using Barbie as a wrecking ball. Doing an unauthorized remodel on his sister's beautifully appointed (the latest in banana stickers and bits of string) doll house. I feel guilty, and I know for sure there will be yelling. Lucy seems to know exactly how she left her room. What looks like a pile of crap to me, is apparently a patiently created world of joy and wonder for Barbie and friends. Yesterday I threw away the rolled up cardboard tag to a t shirt, only to be informed later that I had thrown away Barbie's telescope. I felt like a total jerk. Just writing this, I am starting to feel a like I should intervene in the re-enactment of Godzilla that the little guy is doing up there. Back to the pack mule fun.