Tuesday, March 18, 2008

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.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Kim,

Being a girl, you have the distinct disadvantage of understanding the true meaning of the word BROTHERS...ie: the right and primogenature to beat the ever loving crap out of your little male sibling...viz a viz: where as the little male sibling has the right and programed gene in his make up to snitch upon the older...the youngest of the male brood learns thru programed reflex to act cute and refined and in control, in order to evoke the pity and favor of the parents, who in his eyes always seem to favor the eldest....whom so ever coined the phrase BOYS WILL BE BOYS, was a genius....don't worry about it...when they really begin to kill one another they will let you know...but until then...don't sweat the small stuff...LOL..don't worry be happy !!!!

Uncle Don in NY

Kim Eckhardt said...

Here's the deal, Don. I do not care if they kill each other in the process.

I just want peace and quiet.

And, I don't favor one over the other. They equally drive me nuts.

But, yes...I am at a distinct disadvantage. Ken (who was a big brother) tells me that at least I outweigh them right now and can pull them apart. Give them a couple of years and I won't even be able to do that.

:)

Kim Eckhardt said...

Well...let's see.

Owen is in his room.

Shane has been warned.

Ken is mad.

It's 6:54 in the morning.

Meh.

ginny said...

God I love this curse! Believe me when I say girls can fight just as bad as boys- only meaner! They pull hair, scratch & bite! Peace & quiet- is that a new kind of food?

Kim Eckhardt said...

Susan was mean, wasn't she?

LOLOLOLOLOLOLLOLOLLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

Kim Eckhardt said...

And, btw (that's by the way, dad), the funny part is Owen's whole argument on the essentials of life. Not their fighting. Although, apparently that is amusing to some of you. ;)

Anonymous said...

He he he....I love it....like I said let the boys come here for the summer...I'm sure they will blow off all that excess steam....lol....and come back envigored...lol....just what you need....they will outgrow this phase..trust me....Patience patience patience....

Don