So, I have two boys. They are my heart and soul. They are also my sweat and tears. Tonight, a ruckus erupted in the back part of the house where we keep the children when we are not allowing them in public.
My youngest came running up the hallway hollering that his brother was going to "kill me with a hammer!" Really? Kill you? With a hammer? Wow. So, of course, right on his heels was his brother hollering that he did NOT say he was going to kill him with a hammer. In fact, what hammer was he referring to? How silly the whole thing was! Haha!
Then, the youngest caught sight of me and then he turned on his tears. He is able to make his entire face beet red and have huge glistening teardrops trembling on his eyelashes in a matter of seconds. I really don't know how he does it. It's a gift.
So, when the youngest boy began his soggy explanation to me, the oldest one started sort of smirking. Well, not really smirking. That sounds so negative. But yeah, he was smirking. I asked what was so funny, and the whole story began to come out.
The two have spent every waking moment and most sleeping moments in the same room with their various video game systems and laptops. Eventually, as you may guess, this must get old. The room they've been both occupying is the eldest son's room. The eldest son will be dead asleep during the day (he is 16 and doesn't seem to have his days and nights straight YET.), and the youngest boy will be in his room playing games. Loudly. He has some game where he wears a headset and microphone and converses with the other game players. Loudly. He's a loud talker. Even when he's trying to be quiet, he's a loud talker. He's always been loud.
So, tonight it came to a head. Youngest was loudly laughing and babbling nonsense with his friends on the headset thingie, and the eldest son all of a sudden desired some "alone" time. He wanted his room to himself. Totally understandable. Here is where it gets confusing. Either the oldest son did or he most certainly DID NOT tell his younger brother to leave his room. Get that straight right off the bat. Of course, happy-go-lucky younger child is too busy laughing and carrying on to listen to that. So, oldest brother again either does or does not ask/tell his brother to A. Get out of his room, or B. Leave or he will kill him. I'm still not sure which.
This got no more of a response than the first volley got, so oldest child did the following: or did not do the following: he rummaged under a pile of clothes; (yes, clean, and yes he has a closet.) and pulled out......A HAMMER! *you may gasp in horror at this*. He then either did or did not brandish said hammer at the younger child and A. Threaten him; or B. Comment on the handiness of hand tools. So, younger son informs older son that he better NOT threaten HIM!
At which point, older son decides he needs to use the facilities, and he begins to leave his room. At which point, he says, "I'm not taking any chances!" and he retrieves the hammer he had set down. I have no idea what "I'm not taking any chances!" means in this instance, but it is claimed that he did, indeed, say that. He then proceeded to go do whatever it is they do in the bathroom.
During this interval, the terrified, victimized younger child remained in his brother's room where he knew he was not wanted and continued to play his game. He was TERROR STRICKEN, I tell you. Older boy comes back. He notices that his brother has not left his room, but in fact, remains in his room hollering into the headset. Whilst holding the hammer, the older boy may or may not have( but probably did) make it understood to his brother that if he did not leave immediately, he would begin practicing his wood shop skills on his head. Younger son jumps up, throws open the door and runs screaming down the hall, which is where we came into this story.
We soundly chastise older son for having a hammer, (he THOUGHT about denying that he had one..but thought better.) and we all realized it was left in his room from some earlier repair or some guy thing they had all done involving Sears and Lowe's and Home Depot. He surrendered the hammer to us. He was told to come to us if his brother won't leave him alone. Meanwhile, the traumatized younger child is shivering and shaking in our bedroom waiting for me. I enter and immediately tell him I don't want to listen to the drama. He wails, "You are taking HIS side! You are going to ground me and he'll get away with it!!!!" and he throws himself on my bed and proceeds to get it wet with his huge sloppy tears.
People, I'm tired. I hate drama. I love solitude. I love quiet. I love my kids. I hate drama. So, I have to have a long talk with younger son about blowing things out of proportion and knowing when to leave gracefully. It took awhile, but he is now in his room where he was sent, looking over his Math packet which he was supposed to be studying in preparation for his 9 week exams this coming week. Older son is in his room doing whatever it is he does. Making birdhouses or reading or something. I don't know. I am in my room where I shall remain until I must leave for work tomorrow morning.
My husband had dog crap on the bottom of his foot, which is where the phantom dog crap smell was coming from. He had no clue he had dog fecal matter on the bottom of his foot. This bothers me. I don't particularly want him to sleep in here tonight. Who the hell knows WHAT all he's tracked in?
I'm too tired to write about what I was originally going to write about. Which is a damned shame for y'all, because it was going to be FANTASTIC. I was going to review my latest most fabulous beauty item: the Clarisonic Face Brush. I'll save it for tomorrow. I know you'll be waiting anxiously.
Goodnight.
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