Comedy of Errors

“Stop!”

5 year-old is laying on top of 2 year-old again, in an apparent attempt to suffocate him. I pull him off. “Don’t lie on your brother please, especially not on his head. That’s the sort of thing that makes him bite and scratch you.”

While I chat with 5 year-old, 2 year old crawls up behind 5 year-old and takes a bite out of 5 year-old’s leg in retaliation.

5 year-old is now hysterical, I have to comfort him. I try not to say I told you so. It’s hard; I have to bite my lip to keep it in.

I take 5 year-old to kitchen, clean and dress puncture wound. Hope for the best.

2 year-old follows us out to the kitchen. He’s walking blindly, his blankie over his head. I’m about to take him and put him in time out for biting, when he walks right into the wall (which he can’t see through his blankie), falls to the ground holding his forehead and starts to cry hysterically.

I take 2 year-old in my arms and comfort him. A large blue lump has already formed on his forehead.

Everybody starts to recover, calm down.

Not long later, 2 year old takes basin of water out of kitchen, and pours it on living room floor. Why he does this sort of thing (all the time) I don’t know. He loves sprinkling juice, yogurt, water, milk all over the place. It’s some primal instinct to...I don’t know what, maybe pee on everything to make it his? Not sure. (When he takes his diaper off, lots of pee happens all over, too.)

Anyway, he pours the basin of water everywhere. I go to pick him up and take him to time out as, primal instinct or not, I’m trying to curb this behaviour. He tries to run from me, slips on the water mess he just made and slides right into the corner of the wall. Slams forehead right next to spot where he already slammed his forehead. Cries hysterically. For the second time that day I comfort him instead of putting him in time out. I’ve got to re-examine my methods.

As I’m putting 2 year-old down in the sofa, 5 year-old starts complaining about being cold. This is not a surprise as he’s only wearing a t-shirt (and its winter). I’d been trying to get him to put a sweatshirt on for 3 hours.

Going to the utility room for clothes for 5 year-old, I miscalculate and slam my nose into door. It hurts so much I want to cry. Blood drips down my nose. Boys see me and start to cry hysterically. I clean up my face and reassure them.

Finally, everyone is calmed down. I put on the TV. I just need to keep everyone still for 30 minutes.

It's Not Ninja Time

One rainy, winter afternoon...

Max is two, so I couldn’t quite understand what he was saying at first: “Is no nina time...is no nina tiiiiiime!”

He ran out of the living room, fleeing his 5 year old brother, who was flailing dismembered cheese sticks like nunchucks and making funny noises. Max clung to my legs, shivering. “Is no nina time!”

I turned from the sink, “What’s going on here?” 5 Year old kept flailing the cheese. “Are you going to eat that or what?” I asked, sternly.

His brows were knotted. “No. It’s ninja time!”

The 2 year old screamed, “Is no nina time!”

Aaah, that’s what he was saying. “Ninja time? How do you know what a ninja is?”

“I saw it on TV.” He flailed at his brother.

“Have you gotten a hold of the remote again? Where is the remote? ... Zach, it is NOT Ninja time.”

Max, still clinging, said, “Yeah, Zach, is no nina time!”

“Why are you scaring your brother?”

“Because...” He pulled the cheese taught between his fists.

“OK, give me the cheese.” I reached out for it, but Zach dodged, turned and ran.

“Enough with the ninja,” I yelled into the livingroom.

Slowly, Max let go of me and made his way back to the living room. Receding, I could hear, “Is no nina time, OK Zach? OK?”

I gave ‘em about 45 seconds before they were out in the kitchen again.

...45 seconds later...

Max came running out of the living room, through the dining room and back to me at the sink where I was trying to wash dishes, yelling, “Is no nina time!”

Zach followed Max out of the living room at speed, like the CIA trained nunchuck expert he clearly is, “It’s ninja time!” He lashed Max with some cheese.

I turned off the tap, “It’s is NOT ninja time, Zach! Eat the cheese or give the cheese to me, I don’t care, but stop waving it around the place. What happened to the train set we set up?”

“Max destroyed it. There are tracks, like, everywhere! All over the living room.” I flinched. Zach sounded just like me, using the Valley-girl “like” I picked up sometime in the 1980s. “That’s why it’s ninja time!”

I peeled my gloves off with a sigh. “I’ll go help you set it up.”

I shepherded them out of the kitchen and back to the living room where I did, indeed, find train tracks everywhere. “Ok, guys, pick up the pieces, come on...”

It was ninja time for the rest of the rainy afternoon indoors, the train set never got set up again properly because of Max. I stopped them killing each other several times. I bribed with popcorn and oranges. Nothing worked, nothing brought down the level of madness. Except sleep, glorious sleep.

Eye Gouging, Kicking, Biting and Other Activities for Boys

I often leave the living room to go to the kitchen to prepare a meal or wash a cup, only to hear hysterical screaming about thirty seconds later. I get about as far as the breakfast bar before I have to turn around, go back to the living room doorway, and say “What’s going on here?” Sometimes I don’t even bother returning to the living room. I just yell, “Stop that!” from the kitchen, blindly. They stop whatever it is they were doing which caused the ruckus. I don’t even care what it was--I just want a quiet, aggro-free life.

I never knew how much violence would come with raising two boys. My husband keeps saying, “Welcome to the world of boys”. (He has 2 brothers and three sisters; I have none.) My two kids are forever kicking, biting, scratching, knocking each other off of chairs, and pushing each other into doors.

The worst came yesterday. I’m not entirely sure of the sequence of events (I was, of course, out of the room at the time pouring a cup of tea or washing something in the sink). I think Max, the 2 year old, tried to turn the TV off. Land Before Time was playing, one of Zach’s favourites. (It’s not the Land Before Time of our youth with the pylons and furry humanoids. It’s an animation with singing dinosaurs.) Zach, fed up trying to keep little brother from the TV set on/off switch, grabbed his head in his hands, and gouged his left eye with his thumb. I walked back into the room to find Max crying hysterically and Zach hiding behind the sofa. I took Max in my arms, and asked Zach what he did. Zach told the truth, then paled when he saw the look of horror in my face.

Photo: Sky Sports (on http://www.telegraph.co.uk/ site)

Max’s eye was fine in the end, but Zach spent a LONG time on the naughty step, and was not allowed his cartoons that evening. While it was the best I had in my arsenal, I know it won’t stop the aggro. What will stop the aggro?

They fight over everything. Any little thing Zach has, Max wants, anything, even a broken piece of plastic. If Zach shows the least bit of interest, Max screams, “Mine!” Equally, if Max has something that peaks Zach’s interest, it could get snatched out of his hands. Only when they’re totally engaged in something that I’m supervising do they not attack each other. I literally have to stand there and say, “Zach, you kick the ball. Good. Now Max, your turn. Don’t hold it...kick it back...good, now, Zach, your turn...kick it back...great. Now, Max, your turn...” Clearly, I can’t do that all day. I try to keep them exercised: playground, scooter, bicycle, walks, “nature trails” (where we go down the lane with the nature book and try to identify insects – the only animals to which we can get up close and personal, aside from the cows and cats). I’m not sure if it keeps them from attacking each other, but it wears them out.

*Sigh* I don’t know what to do. Brendan is just like: get used to it. He’s probably right, but I still worry this will all lead to one or more visits to A&E.