The house has this beautiful spiral staircase leading to the second floor, 15 steps with a hardwood landing at the bottom. Around 3:00 p.m., I was in the kitchen when I heard Norah’s voice from the living room. “Stop it, Madison. That’s mine.”

I peeked around the corner to see Madison trying to take away Norah’s stuffed elephant, the one she never goes anywhere without.

“You’re too old for stuffed animals,” Madison was saying. “Only babies play with these.”

“I’m not a baby,” Norah protested, her little voice getting higher with distress. “Give it back!”

“Madison,” I called out.

But Kendra waved me off. “Let them work it out themselves,” she said. “Madison needs to learn to be assertive, and Norah needs to learn to share.”

I reluctantly stayed in the kitchen, but I kept listening. The voices got louder, and then I heard something that made my blood run cold: the sound of a slap, followed by Norah crying.

I rushed into the living room to find Norah holding her cheek, tears streaming down her face. Madison was standing over her, looking defiant.