Tomorrow is our last day of school. So, today we had to do a bunch of science. Science lessons in this particular curriculum (K12.com) are on-line. And I’ve discovered (to my utter dismay) that my boys don’t stay on track unless I am participating in the lesson with them.
So, at 10 a.m., we’re finally ready to start our lessons. I sit here, one sits on my left, one sits on my right. I read the introductory paragraph about cells and cell processes and then this happens:
Brown-eyed kid: “Hey! That’s my pencil!”
Blue-eyed kid: “So?”
Brown-eyed kid: “Give it back!”
Me: “Look, here’s a pencil right here. Don’t be silly.”
Brown-eyed kid: “GIVE!! IT!! BACK!!”
Blue-eyed kid: “Mom!”
Brown-eyed kid lunges for pencil. Blue-eyed kid darts to side.
Me: “Give the pencil back.”
Blue-eyed kid: “No. I had it first.”
Brown-eyed kid: “He did not!”
Me: “Let me know when you finish arguing and we’ll get to work.” I click to my email account.
Flurry of motion. Brown-eyed kid rushes blue-eyed kid’s hand clutching pencil. In the melee’, my jumbo-sized glass of water spills. Water, water everywhere, on my mousepad, on my pantleg, on the floor, on my desk, on a student guide. I jump up, chair falls over behind me. I shriek.
Me: “NICE JOB! CLEAN!! THIS!! UP!!” (I utter other assorted Christian curse words like, “Geez!” and “Shoot!” and “ARRRRRRG!” Then I stomp upstairs where I slam the door for emphasis and change out of my drenched pants.)
We resume. Blue-eyed kid’s student guide is damp, unwritable, but he retains the pencil. Brown-eyed kid is repentant, but I am royally ticked off. I read the science text in a grim, mechanical voice. I sound like Ben Stein in Beuller’s Day Off. This thought does not amuse me because I am mad and when I say “mad” I mean insane, not just angry.
Blue-eyed kid: “See what you’ve done?” (addressed to brown-eyed brother).
[Just now, this very second, I am interrupted by the children in question. I open the door and find one kid, arm raised in the classic "I'm-going-to-punch-your-brains-out" pose, while other kid taunts him from his reclining position in bed. I snapped off the television, ordered them to their own beds and RIGHT NOW I hear them and will return to their room to sternly warn them and possibly throw them into the driveway where perhaps raccoons will adopt them.]
As you can see, it’s all sunshine and rainbows around here. Not long after we finished our science reading at the computer, I sent the boys to read their individual science textbooks in the living room. They immediately set about bickering and caused my head to actually fly off my shoulders like a firecracker you pick up after it doesn’t light and then it explodes and blows off your hand. Like that. Boom! Splat!
I marched into the living room, attempted to sort out their disagreement, and then said, “You have three minutes. Work it out!” They each wanted to sit in a particular spot to do the reading and neither one would budge. They worked it out before the timer rang. Too bad my head was in uncountable tiny bits of matter stuck to my red kitchen wall already.
If only I could fit them with electric shock collars, everything would be just fine. You think I jest? Ha!