The Ducklings are on my very last nerve!
By "last nerve" I am referring to that tiniest microscopic spec of nerve-ending in the very tippy-tip of my left pinky finger where a sliver of hope still lives. This sliver of hope hangs on to the belief that one day my children might actually grow up to be productive adults who, occasionally, pretend to like each other... sometimes. The other 3.5 billion nerves in my body have checked out. They are done. They were all victims of the constant fighting between my children. I am told this is normal sibling stuff, but I have serious doubts. Certainly my children excel in this endeavor.
Here's a rundown of how the most recent fights began:
- He's touching me
- He looked at me
- He's being annoying
- I'm sure he's the one who farted
- He sat down RIGHT NEXT TO ME
- He won't give me the Xbox controller
- But it's MINE
- I don't like how he breathes
And my personal favorite....
- He put his toes up my nose
These were real fights. I'm not even kidding. And these are the reasons my very last nerve is about to just give up and join the other 3.5 billion nerves in some sort of catatonic state where we watch reruns of I Love Lucy and drink wine. Seriously!
Their most recent squabble just did me in and I laid down the law. I was forced to get creative in my sentencing and hit them where it really hurts. That's right... I gave them HOMEWORK. (Homework: the word that strikes fear into the very souls of male children in junior high).
Here's the assignment: "You must write your brother a letter and describe what you like, appreciate or admire about him. It must be hand-written and I want to see your very best writing. Don't just phone it in and give me some unrecognizable chicken-scratch... I want to see some effort. No, you may not use the computer. This assignment is due in 30 minutes... and Go."
And now... for your reading enjoyment, I give you...THE LETTERS. Let's critique them together...shall we? (Have mercy)
Hello Andrew. It's nice to see you. Let’s just get straight to the point. I pick on you and you pick on me. I don't know why we do that. I just want to say I appreciate you. You are a good person and I have always wondered how you make friends so easily and how you stay so thin. I also enjoy your nice style and respect how you wear your hoodie. Have a great day.
Daniel decided to draft his letter as if it were an e-mail. In the upper left hand corner, he lists an email address as his return address, along with the phrase "You got mail" next to a drawing of an envelope. Nice touch, dude. Apparently Daniel comes from the year 1996, where AOL reigned supreme and "You've Got Mail" was a thing.
The super nice tone here sounds the alarm on my mommy "crap-o-meter". Oh sure, this sounds pleasant, but I suspect this narrative includes a good measure of snark in the undertones. Just a hunch. The hand-writing is atrocious, however it’s hard to fault him for that since students these days rarely have to write anymore. I consider this a grave injustice to an entire generation.... but that's a rant for another day. Moving on... a solid effort by Daniel. I'm giving this one an "A-". He covered the basic points, told his brother what he appreciates about him and gave him a few compliments on style. Nicely done.
i like it when your not touching me or in my room or when you compliment me. Here is yourses letter.
Where to begin? Oh I know...How about with the invention of the words "Dearery", "Yourses", and "Senserly"? Apparently Andrew really likes it when Daniel is just not in his space at all. This is what he LIKES about his brother. Oh... also he likes it when Daniel compliments him. Translation: "I will tolerate you when you say great things about ME, otherwise, I just have no use for you at all." That sums it up quite nicely. This is like saying "the end of that song was my favorite part... no, not the last line... the END... the part where you stopped singing... Yeah, I liked that part". I would completely fail Andrew for this sorry submission; however he squeaks by on the sheer amusement value he provides to me. Buddy gets a "D".
So, mothers of the grown-up children... help a sister out. Please tell me this is normal behavior for two tween brothers. Tell me it's a phase... they will grow out of this... they will eventually love each other. Tell me lies if you must. Just tell me whatever it takes for my very last microscopic spec of hope to survive. Otherwise, I’m gonna need to just check out. You’ll find me on the sofa, in my jammies, eating ice cream and binge-watching Happy Days while I completely ignore the chaos in my home. Because this is what life will become when my VERY LAST NERVE gives up on the game. Seriously!