My two boys fight endlessly. I’m sure you are shocked by this revelation. They are six years apart in age, and worlds apart in personality. Of course, they both are masters at pushing each other’s buttons. They know exactly what to do down to which facial expression will set the other one off. And they revel in it.
When we leave them at home alone together, I get the usual litany of phone calls.
“He ate my french fries!”
“He’s bugging me and my friends!”
“He won’t let me play xbox!”
Because I am an awesome mother, when I am out and I receive a phone call like this, I hang up without a word. If they call back, I hit ignore. They’ll figure it out.
One night my husband and I were attending a poker fundraiser for our football team. In the middle of the festivities, my phone rang, our home number visible on the screen. I sighed dramatically, rolled my eyes, and answered brightly, “Yeeeess?”.
All I could hear was sobbing and something that might have been words.
More dramatic sighing followed. From me.
After many reassuring and soothing words, I was finally able to calm my youngest down to the point where I could understand him.
Small Squishy Child: *sob* Jordan *gasp* won’t *hiccup* stop talking *sob* in a British accent!
SSC: *hiccup* Jordan won’t stop talking *gasp* in a British accent!!! *waaaaailll*
Me: *sighing and holding my head in exasperation* Put him on the phone.
Child Who Thinks He’s Hilarious: ‘Ello Govna!
Me: Can you please stop talking in a British accent? You’re making your brother cry.
CWTTH: Bloody ‘ell!
Me: Just stop!
CWTTH: Alrighty then, govna!
Me: *sighs deeply and disconnects*
I’m not cut out for this shit.