08 March 2013
639
R. Linda:
Did you ever have one of those days, that after a hard days slog, you get home to where you are looking forward to an evening of relaxation, only to find as you walk in the door, one of your kids is killing the other one, and the noise level is enough that even when you shout at them to stop, you can't hear yourself above the screaming?
Welcome to my world.
That is exactly what happened upon my arrival home today. Guido had O'Hare in a headlock and was dragging him across the floor and of course, the draggee was protesting loudly and the aggressor was yelling vengeance was his. My first question after releasing the draggee was WHERE IS YOUR MOTHER?
Well, she wasn't home yet. The sitter was there though and where was herself? On the phone in the boyos bedroom yakking to her boyfriend behind a closed door (to blot the sound of murder out). I was livid. I paid her and sent her on her way.
"Just wait until your mother gets home," I said to the two as they stood in separate naughty corners in a time-out.
"That's just what MOM SAYS about YOU!" O'Hare shouted at me and for that he got another 7 minutes to his time out.
What I want to know is how does a three-year-old, okay almost four-year-old, overpower a seven-year-old? Just how does that work exactly? I had told O'Hare when Guido was born that if he didn't treat his little brother well, he'd pay for it when the little brother wasn't so little anymore. And that is exactly what happened.
Guido be our little Italian Mafioso. We call him the "enforcer" because he's one tough kid. He's out on the kiddie four-wheeler racing over the trails like a 16-year-old. The other one, our sensitive O'Hare I secretly think will grow up to be one hell of a fine interiour decorator . . . or hairdresser. Anyway, O'Hare gets hurt feelings if you look at him cross-eyed. We call him "Mr. You Hurt My Feelings!" Uh-huh.
So I can just imagine what life will be like when they are men. I will have one daredevil race car driver and one fashion designer and they will NEVER get along. I will say though, O'Hare be smart as a whip. He's in the intellectually gifted child programme and math is something he finds "fun." I wish I could say that, but maybe I have a future accountant, I dunno. But the other one is not afraid of anything and thinks the more risky the adventure the more enjoyable it is. I have stood on me back porch in a morning haze as he used the porch railing to push himself off along the clothesline as if he was zip lining. I spit out me morning cup of joe as he went zooming by me unsuspecting self. And he fell near the end of it when the line couldn't hold his weight. And what did he do? He sat in the mud laughing.
No need for me to run to see how he was, he was happy as a pig in shite and ready to try it again. I tell ya!
Just the other night I was sitting at the dining room table looking over me tax forms. I was in a bit of a quandary over one part. Earlier, O'Hare had asked me to open the laptop so he could play a game on it (I have me laptop password protected) and I had every intention of doing that but I was stuck on the "green" section on the form. He came over and stood beside me sighing. I knew what he wanted, but I was just so close to figuring out me problem as I thumbed through the tax booklet. Finally, he says, "Da, the windmill DOES qualify for a tax break. If ya look in the booklet it tells ya it does."
I was gobsmacked.
"How do you know that?"
"I read the booklet. I was bored and it was the only thing ta read." He took it from me and opened it to exactly what I needed to know.
OK then. Good to know because I was about to ring Lois. Meself and five of me neighbours kicked in on a windmill that would power some of our electricity (New Hampshire be a windy state) and I thought there was an exemption, but because it was shared, I wasn't sure how much of one. Well, the young Einstein got the booklet and opened it to exactly where I needed to look to know for sure. Then while I was figuring out the numbers on me calculator, he just rattled them off. I was thinking I should give him the tax forms and let him fill them out!
So I have one genius and one tough guy. Now all I need is another to be a MODERATOR. Then me life might become somewhat serene. Or not.
After the time-outs, I thought to sit down and have a "talk" with the two miscreants. But the three-year-old was not interested, he had his arms crossed over his chest and was pouting, which is a posture that makes me want to burst out laughing because he looks funny doing it. The other one had big tears he was wiping and sniffing away with the shoulders still shaking in silent misery. I wanted to tell him to man up but I didn't. I sent Guido to his room to "think about" his behaviour and told O'Hare that life was sometimes fraught with difficult moments, and he had just experienced one of them. I told him his brother was a "physical little man" and to try not to engage him in behaviour that quite frankly gets way out of control.
Tonya arrived just at that moment, and O'Hare was immediately gone and hugging her. He started to tell on his brother and that was exactly what brought Guido flying out of his room yelling, that he didn't start it and oh my G. Here we were again. The noise level of four people yelling over each other is deafening.
HELP GET ME OUT OF HERE!
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Did you ever have one of those days, that after a hard days slog, you get home to where you are looking forward to an evening of relaxation, only to find as you walk in the door, one of your kids is killing the other one, and the noise level is enough that even when you shout at them to stop, you can't hear yourself above the screaming?
Welcome to my world.
That is exactly what happened upon my arrival home today. Guido had O'Hare in a headlock and was dragging him across the floor and of course, the draggee was protesting loudly and the aggressor was yelling vengeance was his. My first question after releasing the draggee was WHERE IS YOUR MOTHER?
Well, she wasn't home yet. The sitter was there though and where was herself? On the phone in the boyos bedroom yakking to her boyfriend behind a closed door (to blot the sound of murder out). I was livid. I paid her and sent her on her way.
"Just wait until your mother gets home," I said to the two as they stood in separate naughty corners in a time-out.
"That's just what MOM SAYS about YOU!" O'Hare shouted at me and for that he got another 7 minutes to his time out.
What I want to know is how does a three-year-old, okay almost four-year-old, overpower a seven-year-old? Just how does that work exactly? I had told O'Hare when Guido was born that if he didn't treat his little brother well, he'd pay for it when the little brother wasn't so little anymore. And that is exactly what happened.
Guido be our little Italian Mafioso. We call him the "enforcer" because he's one tough kid. He's out on the kiddie four-wheeler racing over the trails like a 16-year-old. The other one, our sensitive O'Hare I secretly think will grow up to be one hell of a fine interiour decorator . . . or hairdresser. Anyway, O'Hare gets hurt feelings if you look at him cross-eyed. We call him "Mr. You Hurt My Feelings!" Uh-huh.
So I can just imagine what life will be like when they are men. I will have one daredevil race car driver and one fashion designer and they will NEVER get along. I will say though, O'Hare be smart as a whip. He's in the intellectually gifted child programme and math is something he finds "fun." I wish I could say that, but maybe I have a future accountant, I dunno. But the other one is not afraid of anything and thinks the more risky the adventure the more enjoyable it is. I have stood on me back porch in a morning haze as he used the porch railing to push himself off along the clothesline as if he was zip lining. I spit out me morning cup of joe as he went zooming by me unsuspecting self. And he fell near the end of it when the line couldn't hold his weight. And what did he do? He sat in the mud laughing.
No need for me to run to see how he was, he was happy as a pig in shite and ready to try it again. I tell ya!
Just the other night I was sitting at the dining room table looking over me tax forms. I was in a bit of a quandary over one part. Earlier, O'Hare had asked me to open the laptop so he could play a game on it (I have me laptop password protected) and I had every intention of doing that but I was stuck on the "green" section on the form. He came over and stood beside me sighing. I knew what he wanted, but I was just so close to figuring out me problem as I thumbed through the tax booklet. Finally, he says, "Da, the windmill DOES qualify for a tax break. If ya look in the booklet it tells ya it does."
I was gobsmacked.
"How do you know that?"
"I read the booklet. I was bored and it was the only thing ta read." He took it from me and opened it to exactly what I needed to know.
OK then. Good to know because I was about to ring Lois. Meself and five of me neighbours kicked in on a windmill that would power some of our electricity (New Hampshire be a windy state) and I thought there was an exemption, but because it was shared, I wasn't sure how much of one. Well, the young Einstein got the booklet and opened it to exactly where I needed to look to know for sure. Then while I was figuring out the numbers on me calculator, he just rattled them off. I was thinking I should give him the tax forms and let him fill them out!
So I have one genius and one tough guy. Now all I need is another to be a MODERATOR. Then me life might become somewhat serene. Or not.
After the time-outs, I thought to sit down and have a "talk" with the two miscreants. But the three-year-old was not interested, he had his arms crossed over his chest and was pouting, which is a posture that makes me want to burst out laughing because he looks funny doing it. The other one had big tears he was wiping and sniffing away with the shoulders still shaking in silent misery. I wanted to tell him to man up but I didn't. I sent Guido to his room to "think about" his behaviour and told O'Hare that life was sometimes fraught with difficult moments, and he had just experienced one of them. I told him his brother was a "physical little man" and to try not to engage him in behaviour that quite frankly gets way out of control.
Tonya arrived just at that moment, and O'Hare was immediately gone and hugging her. He started to tell on his brother and that was exactly what brought Guido flying out of his room yelling, that he didn't start it and oh my G. Here we were again. The noise level of four people yelling over each other is deafening.
HELP GET ME OUT OF HERE!
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
