The fight went something like this.
"He spanked my knee."
And the other said, "He told me I'm bad"
Then a lot of crying
Then one of them, the more emotional one declared, "You're not my friend anymore!" (God, why of all traits he could inherit from his mom, he had to get this?)
And then some crying again.
Lakay tried to talk some sense (in Dutch) to them. I didn't understand a thing he said, but it turned out that it didn't work.
Still more crying.
Then the other one asked: "Am I still your friend?"
The emotional one gave a curt reply, "No!"
And then some crying, and some talking more sense in Dutch...
Till I got fed up. I grabbed the tissue box, pulled them together with a big hug and changed the subject. "Who wants to watch Dora?" Both nodded yes.
Two minutes later, the little one said: "You're still my friend." (According to my Dutch-English translator here).
And another two minutes later, they're back to running about and wreaking havoc in our place.
I wonder if old people can keep fights like this--uncomplicated, quick, written on sand and easily washed away by happy waves.