In the building I live in, are many children, of different age groups. The kids are busy playing about in the evenings when I get back from work. Sometimes, I watch a few kids huddled over colourful picture books, examining and commenting on every page. The sight makes me pleased as punch. At other times, I see a squabble or two, usually over a misplaced shuttlecock. But rarely do I see a full-blown quarrel as ugly as I did that evening.
No, it wasn’t violent. The kids weren’t thrashing each other. It was essentially a verbal spat. A little guy about six years old was tugging at a book that was in the clutches of a little girl, perhaps about eight. Continue reading