Sibling Rivalry: You’re So Cute, I Will Eat You Up. (No, Seriously; I Will Consume Your Flesh.)

My children were giving each other crap the other day. And today. And All of the Days. Just constant crap-giving everywhere

This one is giving that one crap by blowing over his carefully constructed card house.

That one is giving the other one crap by iiiiiinching his finger over the Boundary Line on the couch.

The other one is giving someone else crap by wiggling his butt in her face; twerking, sibling style, which, trust me, is the MOST IRRITATING kind of twerking out there, and that’s saying something, man. 

And another one is refusing to respond to any words at all spoken by a sibling, siblings being too inferior to deign to acknowledge, of course, which results in the Screaming and the Crying and the “I’M JUST TRYING TO ASK YOU IF I CAN HAVE A TURN PICKING A SHOW!” and “MooooOOOOOOOOM!”

“YOU!” I say, “YOU stop blowing over his card house. Geez! And YOU; YOU KEEP YOUR BODY TO YOURSELF.” I say that one a lot. “YOU? Seriously. Cool it with the butt, man. COOL IT. And YOU. ANSWER HIS QUESTION. Just GIVE HIM AN ANSWER. OH MY GOSH, YOU GUYS. OH. MY. GOSH.”

And then I say, “When will you stop giving each other crap? WHEN?” 

And they look at me like I’M the one who’s insane. Like I’M the one losing my ever-loving poo. And then the very youngest looks at me and says, “Ummmm… I hate to break it to you, Mom, but prob’ly never. We are just really good at giving crap, Mom. And you always say to Live Into What We’re Good At! and Be Ourselves!, so…” and then he shrugs and adds in the You Brought This On Yourself face. MY face! The one *I* perfected! I kid you not. He delivers THAT speech and then the Gee, I’d Love to Help You, But There’s Not a Thing I Can Do face.

The PUNK.

The little, awesome, crap-giving PUNK.

So, powerless as usual, I sigh the sigh I learned from my Marine father – the sigh that begins with the giant intake of breath and ends with the prolonged glottal exhale for maximum drama – and I take refuge in my computer. 

Where my brother begins a chat.

 
The Brother:
You there?
I want something from you. 
 
 
You there?
 
Yo!
 
 
Oh come on! I just lit poop on fire!
 
Nothing?!?
 
How about now?
 
 
???
 
That was peace over the whole earth!
 
Pretty much the opposite of poop on fire.
 
COME ON… TALK TO ME…
 
Me: 
GEEZ. What do you want?
 
The Brother: 
Couple hours of one-on-one time with each of your favorite nephews?
 
Me:
SHOOT. I like those guys. I was hoping for something I didn’t want to do. But FINE. When?
 
The Brother: 
9:20 – 10:50
 
Me:
 Do I get to pick which day and morning or night?
‘Cause I pick night.
I mean, I LIKE the nephews, but… they’re, like, totally asleep at 9:20pm,
and then I can make Greg put OUR kids to bed because I’m helping YOU.
I’m being a HELPER. What’s Greg gonna say?? So… nighttime, yes??
 
The Brother: 
No.
 
Me: 
 
The Brother:
My emoji is laughing at your sad emoji.
 
Me: 
I’m not sure how I feel about the squishy Google Chat emojis. They look like gumdrops.
 
The Brother: 
Anthropomorphic candy… you’re right, it’s creepy.
 
Me:
And it makes me hungry.
 
The Brother 
“You’re so cute, I’ll eat you up! (No, seriously. I will consume your flesh.)”
 
Me:
I feel like we should apologize to the emoji now.
 
The Brother: 
Not me… eat first, apologize later.
So you’re right, I gave no context to the times.
Tomorrow  morning with the nephews.
 
Me:

 
Hang on – checking calendar.
 
Calendar says yes.
 
Effing calendar.
 
The Brother:
And.. what does Beth say??
(Some friend the calendar is, won’t lie for you when you need it to…)
 
Me: 
Beth is a slave to the calendar.
Beth has no rights of her own.
This is modern-day America, man.
What Beth wants means nothing. NOTHING.
The Calendar RULES ALL.
(Beth likes your kids. Beth is fine with it.)
 
The Brother:
Excellent. Remind me to shift any flattery/bribe attempts directly to the calendar.
 
Me:
Good idea. The calendar likes fancy cheese and gin and tonics. Just, you know, F Your I.
 

The Brother:
Noted. 
And thanks.
 
Me:
You’re welcome.
Love you.
Good night.
 
The Brother:
Love you.
Good night.
 
 

All of which goes to show my youngest was right.

The crap-giving will probaby never end. 

If we’re really, really lucky.

……….

P.S. I think this is the very best definition of sibling rivalry EVER: 

You’re so cute, I’ll eat you up!
(No, seriously; I will consume your flesh.) 

I want to make little toddler shirts that say that instead of those Big Brother or Big Sister shirts. So much more accurate for the kid with a new little sister or brother. SO much more.

Next Post
Previous Post

ABOUT BETH WOOLSEY I'm a writer. And a mess. And mouthy, brave, and strong. I believe we all belong to each other. I believe in the long way 'round. And I believe, always, in grace in the grime and wonder in the wild of a life lived off course from what was, once, a perfectly good plan.
10 comments
  1. I am grateful to have discovered your blog when I did. I need more real in my life. Thank you for being real. And sharing your family.

  2. Please, oh please make the shirt! My whole family needs them.

  3. You are such a breath of fresh air.
    I only have 2 kids and I am an only child, so no experience with sibling rivalry! It is a strange beast some days!
    I praise God that I found your blog. You make me feel that I am not alone in this world of stressed out, self-sacrificing, never sure I’m doing the right thing moms.

  4. This was perfect timing for me – the drive home tonight made me want to claw my own face off. I can’t stand anyone ever again being called a stupid baby. Because that is all they got. At least your kids have game. I’ve failed. Mine just say, “NO you’re a stupid baby…No YOU are a stupid baby…” and on and on and on until I lose my ever-loving mind and scream, “You are BOTH acting like stupid babies. OK? You are both right. You are both stupid babies.”
    I think that joining in on the name calling might not be my finest moment, but I did enjoy the 7 seconds of total, shocked silence that followed. Then they started up again and I started praying that we would make it home alive.

  5. Oooh, me! I would buy one of those shirts!

  6. I would buy that shirt. make one please!!!!!!!!! P.S. I love you

  7. Some of the things that my sisters STILL say to me would cause me to punch anyone else in the face. Repeatedly. From them, they are words of love (and a kinda sick shared family sense of humor.)

    I once horrified my son by telling him I had to run because I had STD. Had to quickly clarify it actually was an acronym for S*** To Do. 🙂

  8. Ohhh so true. Baby, with 11 and 16 yr old brothers – we tell her all the time we’re going to eat her face (insert creepy emoji). She’s not quite big enough for crap giving yet, but she does like to hit them in the face. And they sure can crap give each other. I would totally clothe our entire family in that shirt!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.