The other night Thing 2 was discussing teachers. He said, "You know, some like to capitalize on your weakensses. You go up to their desk, ask them a question, and then in a booming voice he or she announces to the entire class that you don't get something. Now why would I ever ask another question?"
So Thing 2 says that maybe, just maybe, that teacher is simply a loud person and maybe, just maybe, he or she is trying to teach the whole class. Hasn't that ever happened? she wonders to Thing 2. Teachers are looking for moments to teach. Maybe he or she is just trying to help the entire class.
This gets debated back and forth. They carry on so pleasantly that I keep sneaking glances to remind myself that these are MY kids. This feels like a record exchange.....kind, conversational, thoughful.
I look around. Where am I?
I see the familiar piles and dust bunnies so this is most certainly my home.
In another stunning moment, they move on to homework and if I understood the situation correctly, it appears like Thing 2 asked help from Thing 1 and she gave it WILLINGLY. WITH A SMILE.
I have a rosy glow. I am so gobsmacked I can't talk. There is hope, I think. My kids like each other. They can talk to each other. I quickly take a picture because this is a day of days.
Here, take a look!
Suddenly the mature and forward thinking teen is bellowing like a stuck pig because Thing 2's stinky sock TOUCHED her pant leg and WHAT WAS HE THINKING?
My glow instantly fades because I know what is coming. Two gigantic steps forward, three hundred back.
Thing 2 is now pinching Thing 1 and her bellow now sounds like a mewl.
Seriously, after crying babies, I just didn't understand how loud kids could be. Maybe it's just mine, but the noises they emit are not only effing weird. They are loud.
"STOP IT!" roars Thing 2. As much as he just has to pinch, he hates loud noises. Sadly, the connection between those two things has never been made.
Thing 1 has decided retaliation is in order. She is flicking his ear as she tries to walk past him. He snaps his old blanket in her face and instantly the crocodile tears swell to dramatic (are there any other kind?) proportions.
I want to bellow because I am a stuck pig. Instead, I slink to my room and lock the door.
I have never smoked. The wine is in the fridge. Those littel fiends found and ate all of my chocolate and someone (me) has not been charging their phone. The walls aren't thick enough so I can still hear even without my hearing aids because OF COURSE I took them out. I decide to take a shower. It is in a room within a room. Maybe I can get far enough away.
Eventually I come out. I can't hear anything. It seems the dust has settled. I tiptoe back into the wreckage but all appears calm if not exactly bright.
The homework is done. They are both drawing and talkng.
I feel like I have survived some sort of emotional whiplash. I wonder how they feel?
I don't really want to know so I don't ask. Instead, I check the softener salt in preparation for my certain future. It's full and we have reserves.
Game on, as they say. My March Madness has clearly begun.