Wii wars, Trying to die, Way too much help

It is said that too many cooks spoil the broth. I say too many controllers spoils the Wii. We have four controllers now for the Wii in our apartment and judging from the congestion in front of the TV it is two too many. Today the two boys were playing Frisbee Golf which requires each player to throw a Frisbee in successive throws instead of hitting a golf ball.
There were only two players on that one but Alex and Jake thought they had to share about two square feet of space in front of the TV and they were making the most contorted throws trying not to hit each other in the face during the tosses of their virtual Frisbees; all the while complaining they were not getting good throws. I suggested several times that they spread out to get a safe distance from each other to play. Such interjections fall on deaf ears.
Later there were four players in the same area shared by two only an hour before trying to progress in a game they did not have any idea how to play. Somehow they ended up in the dark, being illuminated only around their individual players on the screen. It looked like very weak spotlights tracking their movements and they were all reacting as thought it was real. “Try to jump.” “I am trying to jump.” Who is Luigi? Luigi try to jump?” I am Luigi and I am trying to jump?” “Who has Chase’s mii?” “Whoever had Chase’s mii, try to jump!”
On and on it went until they were quite confused. Jake paused the game, determined to discover who was who but it did him very little good because the other players could not seem to cooperate. As Jake grew frustrated, he grew louder, but he eventually gave up and it was decided that the only way to end the game was for everyone to die – in the game, that is. But even that turned into a hilarious fiasco because they could not figure out just how to accomplish it.
“Everyone move yourselves up.” “No, move yourselves up, like this.” He was raising the remote over his head and shaking in up and down, but Mia and Alex, both younger than Jake, could not quite grasp the idea so he took their remotes and did the movement with all three. I was really starting to enjoy the whole rigmarole when I had to leave so I am not sure how it all turned out, but I am assured that all actual children survived to play again.
Mama is watching a ten-month-old a couple days a week and when she and baby Victoria share the apartment it is a chore for Mama to ensure that Victoria, now almost three years old, does not overdo her pretend mothering of the younger child. It seems Victoria’s time is equally divided between providing the baby with new toys to divert her attention and in ripping from her hands toys she considers hers exclusively; many of which were hers alone for the past two years.
It is amazing to me how little grace, tenderness or mercy there is in children that age when the concept of “Mine!” is so prominent in their developing psyche. It is most fortunate they are not yet big enough to seriously hurt each other – at least, not intentionally.
Mama, it is safe to say, has been busy lately.