"Margot go home?"

Ed. Note:  Apologies for the long delay in posting.  Time and sleep are two precious commodities these days.  I’ll try to catch up on all the news.  But, first, this quick anecdote.

So, it happened.  Everyone tells the story of that moment when their first-born child asks when the new baby (or babies) will be leaving or asks that the new baby be sent back from whence it came.  We finally had that moment.  On Tuesday this week, Coco was eating dinner at the breakfast room table.  Margot was in her bouncy chair-thing on the table and she was crying (as she is wont to do). 
     As I’m picking Margot up, Coco asks me casually, “Margot go home?” 
     I’m like, “huh??”
     “Margot go home?” Coco says again.
     And I realize that The Moment has arrived.  Coco wants the twins to leave.  “Well, Margot lives here with us,” I tell her.
     “No!  This my house!” Coco insists, raising her voice and waving her hand around to suggest that everything the sun touches is hers.  “My house!”
     “But Margot lives here with us,” I say again.  “Will you share your house?”
     “No!  Not share!” she says in her little pouty voice.
     “You won’t share your house with Margot?”
     “No!  Not share!”
     “But, that will make Margot very sad if she doesn’t have a place to live.”
     Coco pauses, looks at her dinner plate, and thinks about it.  After a few seconds, she says, “Ok.  I share.”
     And The Moment is over.