Survey (nearly) any mother about her eagerness for the start of school, during the last week of summer vacation, and she will probably confess: ‘I’m done! All they do is fight, all day long. I’m SO ready for them to go back to school.’
A friend expressed a similar sentiment over email. Initially, I thought I wasn’t ready to send my oldest to school. All day. But these last days have been brutal. And there has been an awful lot of fighting. And I find myself thinking ‘maybe there will be less fighting if one of the instigators spends most of his day at school.’
Which is a joke, really, because I’ve been watching Percy and the Hen. Two ticking time bombs of brotherly arguments, just waiting to go off. I swear I have never seen a more adamant baby than our youngest. I was standing in an art supplies store earlier, trying to pay for my merchandise. I’d given him a couple of tubes of watercolor paint to hold onto. I could not pry them out of his fists for any amount of money. The guy behind me laughed: ‘that’s quite a grip he’s got.’
And the Hen? He’s paid his younger-brother-dues. He has been bossed around. He has complied (somewhat) with his older brother’s demands. And now he’s ready for his starring role. He is ready to be the boss-er. The tattletale-er. The naysay-er.
And his baby brother isn’t going to stand for any of it.
But before this new reality of absentee brothers and squabbling babies descends upon us, we ventured out into the wild for one last adventure. Though judging from the feedback from some of the members in our party, it wasn’t much of a ‘hurrah’ at all.
‘We should only do adventures once in a while,’ my oldest declared at the end of the day. Muttering something about ‘sore feet’ and how he was ‘out of gas’. Or was it ‘energy’?
So on our last meeting-free, school-free day for a while, we drove to Sheep River Provincial Park .
The professor and I managed to (nearly) finish a book-on-tape. The boys stopped fighting, for a while. The skies were blue. And the cows were cute. Except the one that defecated while walking across the road. ‘Do you think we should get a cow for a pet?’ I asked the Gort who has been hinting about wanting a pet. ‘No, he might poop in our house….it’s better to get a goldfish,’ he decided.