I've been watching my children. I feel like they're futuristic muses in Darwin's lab, helping the old chap solidify his research. Abby physically dominates her brother so she can deploy the elevator button first. I see Henry wallop his sister when she kiboshes his plans. If Abby is mid-sentence, Henry will start talking more loudly, at the exact same time, to make sure I address his immediate needs.
I've been listening, too. These phrases repeat frequently at my house:
"I did it better!"
"You're slowing me down!"
"I'm hungry I'm hungry I'm hungry I'm hungry."
"Do it my way."
"I didn't get my waaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy!"
Everyday, these Darwinian beings illustrate the Survival of the Fittest theory. They kick, scream, yell and posture to ensure they rise above the rubble of the moment and persevere, securing their spots on the evolutionary train.