Lately, Peter, Davis, and I (Daddy) have been spending a lot more time together. A LOT. I hope that down the road these memories will be happy ones for all three of us. This video caught about 1 minute of at least 10 minutes of laughing the other night. I can't wait to see what sort of antics they cook up when Matty finally joins the fray. We'll need a bigger bathtub.
Being alone with the big boys so much has put me WAAAY out over my skis when it comes to some parenting moments. Sarah is much better at potty training than I, and she is incredibly adept at heading off big problems while they are still relatively minor ones. So, I tend to pat myself on the back a little too generously when I think I have matched her with my parenting. Then I learn about the mess that she had to clean up thanks to my "skilz."
Here the next mess: "no nuts, no noses."
Since the first day the "big boys" (as they are known, somewhat ironically) started sharing a room, my days and Sarah's days have started earlier. Today, it was about 4:45 AM earlier. I am happy that they were laughing and signing (ABCs, Twinkle Twinkle, Baa Baa Black Sheep... and other songs with the same tune, but whose words aren't recognizable), but it was 4:45 AM. four for tee five. aye emm. There is no noise they can make that is so beautiful that I would enjoy hearing it at that hour, but let's hope they stick with joyful noises. By the time 6:30 rolled around, we were each sick of the other two of us. They flew down to the basement to watch "Handy Manny Fireman" and play with toys. I stayed in the kitchen to watch CNBC and cut up cantaloupe for breakfast.
While I was making their breakfasts, I heard crying from BOTH boys, and it wasn't "give me back my toy" crying. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I saw both boys holding some body part (of their own) and crying desperately. Evidently, it was the aftermath of a Davis-turned-off-the-TV-so-I scratched-his-face-so-he-smashed-my-mouth-with-the-remote moment. Joyful noises, indeed.
None of it was warranted. All of it was preventable. Some of it was comical. Some of it terrified me. What terrified me were 2 things: (1) Peter told me that he tried to scratch Davis's eyes, and the evidence seemed to support his version of that truth, and (2) Davis used a weapon, and the imprint on Peter's cheek similarly supported Davis's version of the truth. Davis had his eyes, and Peter had his teeth. Whew!
As I was calming them down, my mind was racing: "how do I address this?" "how will they survive this?" "can a 5 year old bear the guilt of blinding his brother?" "what would Sarah do?" "where is Sarah?" "how could Sarah sleep through Armageddon?" "what would Sarah do?" "what would Sarah do?" "what would Sarah do?"
We did some role playing ("practice sessions," we call them) to have them rehearse the good behavior. This way they have a model to use for conflict management. What came last was a very, very gentle version of the unspoken rule I learned from the brothers of one of my closest friends: when it comes to brother fights, no nuts and no noses. It was the only way to keep the blood and permanent damage to a minimum in his house. The alleged penalty for violating this rule was an all-against-one "code red" for the perpetrator.
I explained to Davis and Peter that they should never fight, hit, kick, scratch, or pinch (I didn't even remind them that biting might fall in this category), but if they do, they should NEVER do any of these things to someone's face, or to his privates. God help my wife if they ever hear about a "code red."
Stay thirsty, mi hijos.
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