By LIA SPENCER
ISLA and her cousin Scarlett are almost inseparable.
On the surface they seem quite different.
Scarlett’s a year older, quieter and placid while Isla’s energetic and a bit cheeky, or what we call ‘spirited’. But deep down, they are very similar. The two love the same things – Peppa Pig, dancing, babycinos with marshmallows and bright sparkly shoes.
They have playdates and sleepovers, though Scarlett refuses to sleep in the same bed with Isla.
Knowing first-hand how Isla rolls, kicks and prods in her sleep, I don’t blame Scarlett for wanting some space.
The two have been caught getting into mischief together such as the time I walked into Isla’s room and their little chairs were pushed up against the tallboy and both their hands were covered in the nappy cream they retrieved.
They fight like cats and dogs. I’ve had to pull them apart after a fight erupted over who got to play with the Elsa doll.
And they love each other like sisters.
They wrap their arms around each other when they say hello, they ask to play and nap together on creche days and they can both do or say silly things that cause the other to erupt in a beautiful belly laughter which I want to bottle up and keep forever.
So it’s no surprise that Isla has declared to me that Scarlett is her best friend.
But one morning, while the two were eating breakfast after a sleepover, their friendship was put on the line.
Isla was talking gibberish to me and was really on a roll while Scarlett was telling Isla that she needed to stop talking and eat her cereal.
After constant pleading, Isla looked at Scarlett sternly, threw her hand out and said: No, no, no, I’m talking to my mum.”
Offended, Scarlett rested her head on her hand and declared that Isla was no longer her best friend.
Thus started a continuous war. They tell each other they are best buddies, but as soon as one wrongs the other, they call their friendship off. All over, red rover.
But it was only on the weekend that Isla called off her friendship with my husband Michael and I.
We took her to a friend’s grid iron game on Saturday night.
She was happy to watch and cheer but when we told her that she wasn’t allowed to climb and stand on the wire fence, her mood quickly changed.
Isla hung her head and dropped her bottom lip, turned her back from us and muttered: “I can’t be your friend anymore. I’m going to the car.”
It was hard to keep a straight face but we managed to hold it together as we told Isla that wasn’t a nice thing to say, that people’s feelings gets hurt and that she was too little to go to the car by herself.
After a few cuddles and a hot chocolate, we managed to win her over again and the next day she was calling us her buddies and asking for group hugs.
I’m glad we are in her good books again but I don’t think Michael or I will ever be able to fill Scarlett’s shoes and claim the title of Isla’s best friend.
