Last Thursday, I foolishly decided to take a shower in the middle of the day and told my kids they needed to behave while I did so. Three minutes later, I heard arguing, and hollered at them to knock it off and play like normal children.
The arguing continues.
I yell at them to sit in the corner until I am finished -
so mean! yes, I send my kids to the corner. fancier people call it “time out.”
- and three minutes after that, Big comes into the bathroom whimpering that his sister came over with no provocation whatsoever and bit him on the hand.
I send him back to the corner because I think it would be an awesome change of pace to deal with problems with some clothes on for the love of pete! and finished my shower.
The instant the shower turns off, they both materialize in the bathroom pleading their respective cases. Because when I am still dripping wet from a rushed shower during which I screeched so loud I think I broke my larynx is totally the moment I give a flying crap about whatever thing they are fighting about.
You know. Because I rock at being a mom that way.
Big says that Little came over and bit him. I ask her, “did you bite your brother?” and she says “yes.” So I say, “why?” and she goes, “he kept sticking his tongue out at me.”
So I turn to Big and say, “did you provoke your sister?” and he looks at me, the very picture of innocence, except for the one little muscle at the corner of his mouth that gives him away, and says “no, I was just sitting there, thinking about how I was going to start behaving.”