The kids had to swim yesterday and get team pictures, all wet, in betwixt hail, slush, and freezing rain on Mercer Island. There were dumbass Seattle drivers driving 30 MPH because it was hailing--in all four lanes including the carpool lane.
Arrrggh. And the little demon children are working my last nerve. Snow days on a week-end when there is homework to get done and swim practice is not, I repeat, is not good.
So, I laughed with and commiserated at Carrie's post. She is also is the snow-y Seattle area. She blames it on the testosterone. In the spirit of Comments Speak Volumes, my comment to her:
"I don't think this bickering is just reserved for the male
sex.In our little unit of joyous (cough, cough) harmony
that I call our family, it's the two closest in age--mainlymy 8-1/2 year old daughter and 11 year old son whichare the problem.
I usually resort to guilt. You know, the kind your
Mom got you with all the time."Guys, (fake sniffle), what if Mommy and Daddy die?
She is the only sister you have and he is the only bigbrother you will ever, ever have. You must take careof each other ... when your Dad and I die tragically
of diphtheria or tuberculosis or the grippe. Yeah, yeah."I sigh heavily, put hand to brow, and wander unstablyaround as if a lost soul.
Their eyes get teary. They gulp. They look contrite.
And there is silence for a blessed five minutes. Ahhh, peace.I walk around the corner and bust up laughing and
call them something much stronger than "stinkers."
Ah, parenting. It's war. You've got to use the tools
at your disposal, my friend."