Igloos and other things

In the last year-and-a-half, we've moved twice (out of Jerusalem and back in), and we now have a one-year-old baby boy named Shimshon Noach. He is Naomi Bracha's best friend, when he isn't being the bain of her existence. After all, what are little brothers for?
He does't mean to annoy her, it's just that if he's playing with a block, and she picks up a book, he throws the block aside and power-crawls to her to see the book. Or toothbrush. Or doll stroller. Or bath toy. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. And as much as she loves him, a 2-year-old needs her own space. Most 2-year-olds aren't into sharing their existence with a one-year-old who almost rivals them in size, weight, and speed.
But as far as 2-year-olds go, I am really lucky. The only time I reaaaalllly see her terrible twos are when there are igloos* involved.

An igloo, but not the kind she has tantrums about. 

*igloos are Israeli mini-popsicles that are encased in colorful plastic. I couldn't find a picture of these on google images (if you can, leave it in a comment!)