I almost counted the Rice Krispies to stop the bickering over who had more

By Lorraine Candy

PUBLISHED: 16:24 EST, 8 May 2013 | UPDATED: 01:46 EST, 9 May 2013

So ‘Friday night film night’ is over in our house, brought to an abrupt end a mere two weeks after it was initiated. Killed by its mini-creators, who turned a good thing bad.

Like the Spice Girls musical Viva Forever, we all had high hopes. This weekly family get-together had all the makings of a brilliant plan. But our good intentions were cruelly crushed by an increasingly popular hobby which I don’t seem to be able to outlaw.

Bickering. Relentless, irritating, loud bickering. Bickering which leads to arguing, which leads to fighting. When it gets really bad I don’t know whether to separate the trio of trouble or enter them for the Rio Olympics as a particularly aggressive boxing squad. Bickering brought film night to an end because it took over an hour for them to agree which film to watch. 

Food wars: At breakfast the Candy children argue over who has the most cereal (posed by models)

I left the room twice - only drawn back in the second time when I heard my six-year-old shout: ‘You’ve split my onesie. I’m telling.’ 

I was tempted to make them watch Les Miserables as punishment (given that they hate musicals as much as I do), but I didn’t want to spend my Friday night listening to Russell Crowe singing either.

They argue about anything and everything. And it’s driving Mr Candy and me mad.

Life for the eldest three is all about grievance collection. Mabel, nearly two, just watches from the sidelines biding her time before secretly snaffling a toy she’s had her eye on which has been left unguarded in the chaos.

Sibling rivalry: Lorraine wonders if all brothers and sisters bicker as much as her four (posed by models)

For her older siblings every infringement of the imaginary brother/sister rule book is noted and acted upon. Revenge is rampant in our house.

It got so bad at breakfast one morning I contemplated counting the Rice Krispies to stop them fighting about who had more. In the end my patience wore out and I threw all their Rice Krispies into the dog’s bed instead.

Outrage followed and the trio who seconds earlier couldn’t bear to be sat in the same room together united against their ‘bonkers’ mother.

What should I do, I wonder? Is this level of sibling rivalry normal? Is it because there are so many  of them?

I remember my little sister once broke a hair brush over my head when we were children, but she was provoked. And I recall car journeys where one of us had to sit in the front because my parents couldn’t bear the squabbles, but I don’t remember bickering all day.

Frankly, I’ve run out of things to ban or take away and short of threatening to lock them in a cupboard (which I believe is against the law), I’m not sure where to go next. 

I could embark on creating my own North Korean-style dictatorship at home, where they all get the same hair cut, clothes and approved activity, or I could just leave them to it and bury the losers’ bodies under the shed Hunger Games-style.

This is not what I imagined in my motherhood fantasy before I had children. I saw us all cuddled up on the sofa watching Miss Congeniality (it’s a very underrated film actually) munching homemade popcorn.

I did not see myself refereeing arguments about who is sitting in whose chair while dodging flying cushions and having a six-year-old mimic my words in a highly irritating fashion. I thought it would be cosy and quiet, not a crescendo of shouting that people in Pyongyang could probably hear.

Obviously it’s all about attention isn’t it? After all, you have a child and lavish it with love, then more or less say: ‘Well you’re great but let’s see if we can do better and have another one.’

It’s the ultimate betrayal in many ways. Perhaps you can’t blame them for petty jealousies.

I only take heart in the stories of others who are close to their siblings as adults, now they don’t share a bedroom or a bathroom.

I have suggested Mr Candy and I begin to mock bicker in front of them and see if it troubles them as much as their squabbles trouble us, but he’s of the opinion we do nothing as they will grow out of it — which is what he says about everything.

And there are elements of a boisterous and spirited household I really enjoy — at least they’ll be able to stick up for themselves in the outside world.

I think I may also put a bet on Mabel, the always-observing No 4, becoming Prime Minister.

She has used all the skills acquired from witnessing how her siblings interact to develop admirable negotiation and manipulation skills. What Mabel wants, Mabel gets, and in the nicest possible way.

Lorraine Candy is editor-in-chief of ELLE magazine.