With a 15-year-old boy and a 12-year girl living under the same roof, the insults are gonna fly.
Friday night I had enough of it.
“Both of you, get over here, NOW!” I commanded in my best Nazi Mom voice. They sulked in the room and as they stepped forward they continued to elbow each other to see who would get to stand closest to me.
“Move your big butt, Maya, and maybe there would be room for both of us!” DeAngelo snickered.
She pretended to claw him in the face like a cat before snapping: “You always have to try and be first, get out of my way!”
“Both of you STOP!” I interjected, more annoyed than if I had just stepped into chewed gum on the pavement. “From now on, every time I hear an insult come out of your mouths, you owe me a quarter. No exceptions. Anything hurtful or mean and I get twenty-five cents.
I put on my invisible ear plugs and shooed them out of the room. “I’m such a clever-clever mom”, I thought.
The next day we were at the arts festival and Patrick and I were so busy setting everything up that we didn’t really pay attention to the kids. When we finally had a chance to sit down and rest, Maya informed me that DeAngelo owed .75 to the cut-down fund. He calculated Maya’s total to be 50 cents. They paid me and went back to their respective chairs.
“I’m such a genius, I should write a parenting book!” I whispered to myself.
A while later, DeAngelo walks up to me, extends his arm with his hand in a fist. He signals for me to take what is in his hand. I extend my arm to his, my palm under his fist. He drops two quarters in my hand. I look at it, confused.
He then walks up to Maya and says, “Can you please move your seat so I don’t have to stare at your ugly mustache?”
All of our jaws dropped. Homeboy had prepaid for a 50 cent worthy insult to his little sister! She barely has peach fuzz on her upper lip if you step close and look. Otherwise it is not noticeable at all. So that was a pretty mean blow.
Maya leaps from her chair and grabs her purse, she never breaks her evil stare from DeAngelo. She whips out her wallet and opens a little coin purse and manages to scoop out a handful of pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters to give to me so she can fire back a round.
“This is not how it was supposed to work!” I said. “This is not Virgin Mobile, Pay As You Go! You can’t prepay to insult each other!”
Is there a cure to stop the bickering? If not, how long will this last? Other than this they are great, helpful kids. But together, the only thing they agree on is that when they grow up they want to live in opposite states. I’ll gladly give a quarter to anyone who has advice!
Well, I’m off to bed. Tomorrow I’m off to take a tour of one of the world’s largest glittery factories!
peace, respect & glitter.
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