I hear the “bad quiet,” followed by a howling cry. I dash into the dining room, which is not really the dining room, but more like a catchall room for “crap that I have,” to see what happened. I see the Mini standing there looking guilty and LG screaming at the top of her lungs.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?” I ask.
The Mini is not at the age yet where he understands the ability to lie, thereby throwing himself under the bus on a regular basis.
“I hit LG.”
The next two minutes were a cacophony of wails and cries from both kids as one was sent to the step to sit, and the other was crying from whatever it is her brother did to her. The chaos brought the Meester flying up the steps.
By and large, my friends are jealous of the sibling relationship between my kids. And I have to say, the Mini is really good with LG for the most part, but I don’t really expect that he’ll be perfect. Especially now that she’s into his stuff. He’s learned to find ways to redirect her in different directions, but there are going to be times where he just pushes the limits to see what he can get away with. This is part of learning to interact with other people. This is part of growing up.
But it’s hard to yell at one kid over the other, or in front of the other. No matter what their ages are. I don’t want either of them to think that they are favored, nor do I want them to think that they can use that as ammunition against the other (“MOM, SHE HIT ME!”), but I know that’s inevitable too. Perhaps this is delusional thinking, or perhaps this is just because I know all of the things I did to my sister as a kid.
I mean, seriously. I put a leash on her and walked her around because my mother wouldn’t let me have a dog. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
I once forced her to eat a wad of paper, because she stuck it to the door that my mother had just taken two days to repaint.
I used to try to wedge her nose so far up my crack and then rip a fart.
I locked her out of the house during a thunderstorm (oh and boy did I pay for that severely when she saw that my parents happened to be driving down the street at the time).
Now it’s your turn. I want to hear your sibling abuse stories.