The Things My Children Argue About

The children are driving me bonkers. Absolutely bonkers.

To be fair to the children they are not behaving in any way abnormally. They are just going about their day doing the same peculiar things they always do.  It is just that I seem to have developed an incredible sensitivity to their nonsense, and a total failure to have any patience with it.

Yesterday, when they should have been setting the table for dinner, they were actually standing around holding clumps of cutlery arguing about Adventure Time. The discussion got very heated, particularly over the issue of the number of episodes that might be available on YouTube and the duration of the clips etc.

I would not mind quite so much if a) they actually got on with the job in hand while they were debating, b) they showed any interest in resolving the argument or c) they were arguing about anything important.

Instead the table did not get laid, each of them clung fiercely to their own particular belief without doing anything to find out which one of them (if any) was talking sense, and they got increasingly cross with each other until things got to such a pitch that blood was about to be spilled.

About Adventure Bloody Time.

I try not to interfere too much in their day to day spats. After all, they need to learn to make peace with each other without a UN Peacekeeping Force at hand. They need to learn not to press each other’s hot buttons, and sometimes they need to learn in quite a visceral way what happens when you throw all that into the ether and press someone’s hot buttons like crazy. It is my theory that getting walloped by your sister in your formative years after you’ve crossed the line, means that you are less likely to get glassed in a pub in your teenage years because you can pretty much figure out what’s coming and how much it’s going to hurt you.

Sometimes though, I just cannot stand it, and yesterday was one of those days. I believe that I used the phrase: ‘Just listen to yourselves’ quite a lot.

I set some ground rules. The first one being that they were not allowed to spill blood over a spurious argument over a television programme. The second being that they were only allowed to physically harm each other over something important and even then it would be frowned upon in parental circles so it had better be damn well worth it.

They nodded sagely.

This morning I had to break up a fight about the correct order of the lines in Aretha Franklin’s RESPECT.

God help me. It is going to be a long week.

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