I hypothesize the reason my children fight like children possessed by opposing sides of the demon world is they’re so close in age–22 months.
However, the only way for me to test said hypothesis is to wait a few years and acquire another child. Since Tucker’s fixed, I would have some explaining to do.
Two years ago I wrote a post titled Referee No Longer about the kids fighting and I suppose the whole point was I was throwing in the towel. “Beat the crap out of each other, kids. That’ll teach ya.”
Of course that didn’t happen and Tucker and I kept breaking up fights; any chance to avoid a trip to the emergency room should be taken.
It’s finally gotten to the point where they both get in trouble if they’re fighting to such an extent we have to become involved.
Consider the scene set, OK?
The kids had been getting along pretty well yesterday and were even happy to be taking turns with Viva Piñata. You can imagine my surprise when I heard Cara scream bloody murder–a real I’m-hurt-like-a-mofo kind of scream–and heard Ollie hollering at her, “I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY!”
He had thrown his Captain America foam shield at Cara and managed to catch her smooth in the eye.
To the pediatrician we went; Cara wearing an eyepatch isn’t nearly as funny when there’s a chance of it becoming a reality.
She’s fine, by the way. She can still see and there’s no major damage to her cornea.
And I’ll have you know they barely fought for the rest of the day. Barely.