Cold Spaghetti

I read somewhere that siblings have moments of conflict an average of 3 times every 10 minutes between ages 2 and 4, and that this number rises to roughly 4.3 times every 10 minutes between the ages of 4 and 7.

In my experience, this is complete nonsense. There is no such thing has a moment without conflict with siblings of ages 2-4. None. Even if I hogged tied both kids at opposite sides of the room, I know that Will could communicate “I’m not touching you” through ESP enough to make his sister whine, and that Kate could look hard enough at Will’s stuff to make him cry protectively over it. It’s like having to sadistic magnets drawn by forces they can’t understand and compelled to torture.

This is how it works.

Kate is sitting alone looking at a book. Will enters and begins to take over the book. Whining ensues.

M: “Will, please leave your sister alone. Kate please use your words.”

W/K (in unison): “But I want to read her this book.” / “NO WILL.”

M: “Will. Listen to what she is saying. Does she sound happy? She is trying to tell you to leave her alone. Kate. Please no whining. Use your words.”

W/K: “But… I want to read it to her.” / “AUUUUGHHHHH.”

M: “Will, why don’t you find a book that you can read to Kate after showers toni….”

Kate pulls book free and smacks Will on the head with it. There are screams. A papercut injury may have taken place. You have 1 second to react before the situation really falls apart: you address them together, make them each apologize, then lock them in closets for the rest of the day while you soak your head in a bottle of rum.

Another example.

Will is laying on the floor making paper airplanes. Kate walks over and sits on his head. He thinks this is great fun and the two start to roll around the floor. You stop taking tequila shots long enough to consider whether it is better to let them attempt to destroy each other (because you know that the ONLY way for this to end is with tears) or to intervene YET AGAIN in that annoying Mom way that you swore you’d never use when you became a parent. The same voice you used so terribly five minutes before. After considering the quandary for a minute, you realize that after a few more shots, you won’t hear the screams so clearly. You quicken the pace of your liquor.

I used to think that Paul constantly leaving his shirts inside out in the laundry would be the thing that pushed me over the brink of sanity. And while I die a little bit inside each time I find YET ANOTHER t-shirt that somehow did not right itself between removal and being thrown on the floor, I now know that what is really going to break me is a game of “MOMMMMM!! BUT SHE IS LOOKING AT ME!”