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 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.
‘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??
Beth has no rights of her own.
This is modern-day America, man.
What Beth wants means nothing. NOTHING.
The Calendar RULES ALL.
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.