Twins dressed as sailors in a wooden boat at sea — *Episode 1: The Boat Incident*

Toddler daycare incident incoming

A few weeks ago, I was picking up Miss Lark (2) from daycare when an educator came rushing over. The look in her eye said this is important.

I’d seen that look once before.
In the baby room, when Lark was first tested out her pearly new chompers on a new friend. She nipped the tip of his finger. Thankfully not clean off.
Just hard enough for the teeth marks to be visible at home time.

A reportable crime.

Oh no.

I braced myself, mentally preparing to be both suitably horrified and apologetic in the educator’s presence.

Turns out, when the educator lifted Lark’s shirt, there was a perfect little circle of teeth marks on the right side of her chest.

Thank goodness.
My child isn’t today’s perpetrator.

I must have looked far too relieved – and confused the educator – because she started rambling, suddenly unsure how this conversation was meant to unfold.

The boat incident

Apparently, there had been a disagreement over who should be playing in the boat, and in a moment of nautical rage, the seas rose up, and Lark was bitten overboard.
The toddler equivalent of walking the plank.

A battle was fought.
And judging by the baby shark bite, the other toddler won.

Now, from previous experience, I know daycare can’t disclose the name of the other child – but honestly, it doesn’t matter. Kids will be kids. They’re learning how to navigate this world, using whatever tools come to hand.

Or mouth, in this case.

The educator handled it incredibly well.

Apparently, Lark was very good at telling them what happened. She emphasised this point multiple times – which I found a tad odd, but also reassuring. It seems being a dibber dobber is no longer a schoolyard crime.

Calling Crime Stoppers

We left daycare, played in the park for a while, then headed home with Lark’s new maritime mark.

At this point, Lark was saying a word here or there, but had barely strung more than two together.

So you can imagine my surprise later that night, as we lay in the big girl bed under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, when Lark lifted her shirt, pointed to the baby shark attack, and declared:

“Nessa bite Lark.”

What now?

“Nessa bite Lark.”

Pointing urgently at the perfect circle on her chest.

In that moment, I felt joy.
Joy that Lark could now string sentences together.
Joy that my baby could communicate something important to me.

Of course, joy isn’t the emotion a wronged toddler is looking for – so on the outside: calm correction, maximum empathy, praise for sharing important things with Mama.

On the inside? Also amused.

Because I know Nessa. Ever since she was a tiny tater tot in the baby room, she’s stood out – red curly hair, big brown eyes. A mirror cub.

Amused – and deeply impressed – this will go down in family folklore as the first full sentence Lark ever spoke.

Lucky for Nessa, Lark forgives.
Unlucky for Nessa, Lark is not one to forget.

The thing is, Lark has been bitten before.

She never forgets

Not by another toddler, that we know of, but by a farm cat named Mango – aptly coloured fur, her favourite cat in the entire world. For months afterward, whenever Lark saw Mango, she regarded him with fondness… tinted by a memory etched deep into her hand’s memory; no a scar in sight. Her expressions suggesting something sinister had once gone down between the two.

You’d think that when the marks faded, the memory would too.
But the boat incident with Nessa also continued living rent-free in Lark’s head.
For weeks.

Late at night, when all is quiet… Nessa bite Lark.
Early in the morning, as the sun wakes up… Nessa bite Lark.
At the family dinner table, between bites of spaghetti bolognaise… Nessa bite Lark.
In the car, Golden playing at full tilt for the third time that trip… Nessa bite Lark.

Friend or foe? Why not both?

I thought this might be the beginning of the end for the lion cub twins.

But quite the contrary.

When daycare uploads the daily photo dump, the two girls appear next to each other in at least 40% of them. Mostly thick as thieves. Sometimes Lark looks… cautious.

It turns out Lark now has a daycare arch nemesis best-friend twin – the ultimate love-hate relationship. Born a month apart. Same red curls. Same brown eyes. A rivalry made remarkably cute by their striking similarity.

Now whenever I pick her up from daycare, I find myself wondering:
What happened today in the ongoing saga of Nessa & Lark – the almost identical lion cub twins?

That was Episode One: The Boat Incident.
Stay tuned for more episodes of the cutest drama in nappies.