Imaginary Fights

This morning, as most mornings do in my house, started out with a bang. There is no cup of coffee in the quiet hours of the morning, while the children lay snuggled in their beds. If I wanted to buy into that fantasy, then I would have to set my alarm for five a.m., and that might buy me thirty minutes, but I’d just be exhausted, and I need to save my energy for the end of the day, when I’m putting them to bed. So, every morning when I come down the stairs, I am bombarded with whatever issue has been manifesting for the past thirty or more minutes.

Up first, without fail, mandatory tattling. He’s playing Xbox, he was using his iPod, he was on your computer. ┬áThis happens every single morning, even though no one is supposed to be playing Xbox, on an iPod, or using my computer.

Then, sometimes, like this morning, the kids have imaginary fights, where they fight over things that will never happen, but from their intensity, you would think are happening at that very moment.

Second Son wants a dirt birk, a motorcycle, a moped, a Vespa, any vehicle that will move faster than his electric scooter. He is eight. The answer is no. Which is not good enough for him, since he views no as just another obstacle to overcome in getting his way.

So, I explain to him (for the hundredth time) that A. he is not old enough to ride a motorcycle, moped, or Vespa, and B. he’s not getting a dirt bike because (little) a. we don’t want him to break his neck, and (little) b. he has nowhere to ride it (I used to be big into outlining). He counters, that he can ride a dirt bike in the backyard (whatever) and that he saw a little kid online riding a motorcycle in the street. Thank you, Internet for portraying reality.

With his Communion money burning a hole in his pocket, he has been relentless in his pursuit of a two-wheeled motor vehicle, doggedly checking Ebay for any dirt bike that fits his budget, which brings us back to this morning’s fight.

First, the tattle, “he’s on your computer.” Second, the fight, initiated by my older son who became so indignant with the thought of his younger brother getting a dirt bike (he’s not) that my entire morning was spent listening to them to fighting over what bike was best, how he (middle) didn’t know anything, how he (my oldest) would have money to buy a dirt bike, too, if he (my middle) hadn’t stole all of his money, blah, blah, blah. It was torture.

So, I sent them outside, at 7:15 a.m. to play, which was somehow interpreted as bounce golf balls in the driveway and try not to hit mom’s new car (I got a new mini-van, holler!) This caused my husband, as he was leaving for work and happened upon the scene, great distress, which in turn caused me distress, as all I wanted to do was finish a cup of coffee in peace, but since I am the attender of most issues that involve the kids causing harm to things, such as each other and the car, it was just not to be.

The bus was welcomed sign, today.

Leave a Reply

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