|Harriet giving Zoe and I the look: Are you two for real? Seriously? I have you two for roles models?!|
On Saturday, I found myself all alone with the two-under-two crew for the entire day. Sometimes I think it will be easier with just the three of us because man, those teenagers and the preteen can sure make a mess. Not to mention their social calendar is very difficult to keep up with. But the absolute worst part of having everyone home right now is the two pubescent boys who cannot seem to stay out of each other's way and every time their paths do collide, a fight ensues. One will puff up his chest and the other one inevitably taunts:
Ya wanna go?!
which is then followed up with the teenage boy dance:
push push shove
push push shove
Being a bit of a scrapper myself and being fight-deprived since I met Mr. Level-Headed twenty-four years ago (that man refuses to fight with me . . . grrrr!), their squirmishes always send me in a tizzy and I have more than once responded with:
Ya wanna fight? Fight me! I will gladly kick your a%$!
No Mother-of-the-Year award for me this year. Why do I become such a child in these situations? And why, oh why, do I feel the need to share them publicly?
Anyhoo . . .
Unfortunately, my children do not fear me . . . er, I mean, "fortunately", so the fight quickly dissipates because everyone is laughing too hard. I wish I could say that this was my intention all along; however, I am not that smart and to be honest, I just really love a good fight and none of these Websters will fight with me. There is hope, though! Miss Harriet seems to have a bit of scrappiness in her:
I can only dream . . . er, I mean, wouldn't that be terrible?!
. . . tee hee!