Growing up in a small family sometimes makes it hard to understand my two rambunctious red-heads. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters to fight with. I did have the pleasure of growing up in a small town with lots of kids, so there was always a playmate. But being naturally non-confrontational, I simply have a hard time with the fighting in my house.
This weekend was what I would call an ‘outdoorsy weekend’. Saturday was a nice warm sunny day, unlike the recent rash of wet weather that has been haunting the region. After an unusually late night (Irish dance recital) we actually managed to drag ourselves out to the other dance classes Saturday morning. Being kids with unlimited amounts of energy, (oh, why can’t they share?) they wanted to wash the car in the afternoon. Soooo, out came the buckets, cloths and hose. We spend a pleasurable afternoon involved in this and that, and even had a picnic with the dolls on the front lawn. Well, my 6-year old and I did. In the evening we went to the library and got dinner since I did not have unlimited amounts of energy. Not too shabby for a Saturday.
Sunday dawned with the makings of another pretty day. I let the kids sleep until about 20 minutes until church and then we did the usual race to the car. After letting them stuff themselves silly afterward, (it was the annual sunday school picnic) we went to meet a friend and spend the day at a botanical garden. It’s really a beautiful place and there is tons of room for kids to run around. Not to mention a great ‘Children’s Garden’ with fountains and other things for kids to get into. You would think it could be a peaceful day. It would have been in my family most likely. Not in any with more than one kid. I’ve learned that nothing is simple with two (or more) They fought for a majority of the way there, and then fought for a large part of the way back. To the extent that I pulled the car over twice.
Apparently that was just a warm up. The second they got home the other night, They were on the floor wrestling each other. I asked what the fight was about later, after they had cooled off in their rooms, and they couldn’t remember. This aggression takes me aback sometimes. Not only am I getting used to the increased attitude from firstborn, but the fighting makes me wonder if they are rehearsing for an Off-Broadway production of The Hunger Games.
Logically I know that the fighting is their wayto deal with conflict and that they will learn from it. And also I know that the half of the time they aren’t fighting, they are generally close, until the bossiness sets in. I keep reminding myself that one day my house will seem too quiet and I won’t be able to tip toe into their rooms when all is peaceful and tuck their blankets in. Hence I wait out the fights with gritted teeth and plans to buy a megaphone.