One wooden spoon.  One Tupperware bowl.  One pink scarf (the only available color in Mommy’s closet).  Some groovy music.  One drummer boy. 

Welcome to our music time! 

You’d think with all of the aforementioned supplies, our music time would be complete.  You think wrong! 

No more than two minutes after being on the floor with Brennan, this girl goes snoopin’.  Snoopin’ for her own instrument.  An instrument to garner attention.  She’s too lazy to go over to her own basket of toys, so she chooses to rummage through Brennan’s.

Her selection:  a burp cloth.  Real exciting, huh? 

Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a band!  One lead drummer and one backup vocalist?  Shredder?  Go-go girl? 

It doesn’t take long for Molly’s mission to be accomplished.  She’s already succeeded in officially ceasing music time; it’s very apparent that all musical instruments have been set aside and all eyes are on her.

Slyly inching ever closer.   Oh, she’s cute.  But don’t be deceived.  There is an ulterior motive at work beyond playing with her buddy.

And there you have it.  An exhibition of her ability to show Brennan who’s really in control of music time…or any other kinda play time for that matter. 

What’s that look on your face, baby boy?  Frustration?  Annoyance?  Disgust? 

Way to handle the situation by exercising your God-given authority.  Yes, you shall rule over the animals.  Although, I’m not sure Molly considers herself an animal.  A human, yes.  An animal, no.

Watch out!  She’s gonna pull out her kung fu ninja move on you to try to usurp you.

And… you’ve been usurped!  I would tell you, “I told you so.”  But I won’t.  Because I feel sorry for you.

That’a boy!  When you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!

Now you’ve got a handle on something.

Oh, man!  Sorry, buddy!

I’ve lost track of the number of things, either of mine or Brennan’s, Molly has destroyed over the past seven months.  Having Brennan has somehow, inexplicably made Molly’s peppy puppiness return.  And/or her inner, older-sibling rivalry protrude. 

Mustering up the determination to stand strong.  Hold your ground.  Take the higher road.  Show her who’s boss.

Well, maybe next time.  She has the upper-hand this time.  Clearly.

Oh, dear drummer boy who needed rescuing from the over-powering puppy, I’ll rescue you.  You’re weary from the battle.  You put up a good fight.  You’re a humble warrior in training.  I’ll always be in your corner cheering you on.