The Essentials Of Life

Every night, it's the same routine. If you have children, you know the drill. If you don't, would you like mine for the evening just once? Please.

Me: Go upstairs and brush your teeth, go potty and get into bed. I'll come upstairs and will tuck you into bed. Do you understand?

"Them": Yes, mommy.

Me: Good. Now, we're not going to have a major battle upstairs, are we?

"Them": No, mommy.

Me: Good. If I have to come up there and referee, you've lost your video games tomorrow.

"Them": Okay, mommy.

Me: Good. Repeat what's going to happen if I have to come up there.

"Them": "If you have to come upstairs because we're being loud or fighting, we lose our video games."

Me: Good. You understand. Now, go.

Of course, they start fighting as soon as they hit the stairs. Two feet away. These children have the memory of a man. Already. Two minutes later, I hear what sounds like the ceiling crashing in, usually followed by a shreiking "stop it, Shane" or "Stop it, Owen...mom's coming up here."

Then I take a deep breath knowing what's coming. It would be easier to ignore it. But, yet, I am a glutton for punishment.

I sneak upstairs hoping to catch them while they're doing whatever it is that they're doing.

Because if I don't catch them, they'll deny, deny, deny that it was them. Oh, my pardon. It must have been the other 10 children that live in this house. Because these two perfect angels could not have possibly have made all that racket.

So, then the tears start (and that's just me!) and they do one of three things.

1) they throw themselves on the mercy of the court (not usually); or
2) start selling each other out and blaming each other; or
3) they (um...usually Owen) argue like they graduated from Harvard Law School. This is the usual scenario just so you have the full picture.

Another 45 minutes of tears and arguments go by and I finally get them into bed.

Inevitably, one or both come back out at least once. Usually twice. Maybe three or four times.

Well, tonight, it was Owen's turn to try the second manuver to get his video games back since the first, more direct one didn't work.

Defense argument #2 tonight was "I don't care. Video games don't matter."

Here's his defense.

Owen: I don't need video games.

Me: Okay.

Owen: Nope. The only things that I need to survive in life are:

1) to breath air;
2) to have food to eat;
3) to have water to drink;
4) to have shelter;
5) to have clothes on my back.

With his lip quivering and big tears in his eyes, he sums up his closing argument.

Owen: Yep. That's it, mom. That's all I need for survival. I don't need video games.

Yep. I'm pretty sure that he used the terms "essential things to survive."

Anyway, I agree with him that those are the essentials to survival. Kiss him and send him on his sad little way.

Believe it or not, I didn't laugh. Not one time.

God, I love that kid. Is he really just 5?

So, Mrs. King...if you're still reading this, you'll be glad to know that your lessons on the essentials of life did sink in. At least for one child. If you haven't gotten to it yet, just follow Owen's lesson plan above. And, be sure to call on him. Apparently he has it all figured out.

And don't forget to ask him where video games fall in that list. I'd like to see if they still aren't essential. I'm betting that they are back on the list. I'm sure that he's come to his senses. :)

By the way, "them" is my mother's revenge. Although, I am sure that I did not fight with my sister. Ever.