My kids hate each other
As I sit here typing this, my 16 year old son is wrestling with my 9 year old son. The sight of them rolling around the living room floor, laughing, and avoiding possible cerebral inflammation as their heads bonk together, makes my insides go all tingly.
I am smiling.
This is a really nice change from what I usually witness: my 14 year old son and my 12 year old daughter hating on each other with such passion that they've elevated their passive-aggressive retaliation to an artform.
These two can't stand each other. I watch the angry energy between them, and it's like an old couple who have been staying together for the sake of the children.
My son will be lying next to me on the bed watching a movie with me. My daughter will enter, and immediately tense up at the sight of the mother/son bonding; her teeth gritting; her fists clenching. But instead of winding up and landing a good punch on what she refers to as his "cute, little button nose," she crawls up into the bed on my other side, snuggles next to me, and places her arm around me in such a way that requires my son to move away lest his skin make contact with hers.
Trapped between them, I can sense the hatred buzzing in the room like a swarm of killer bees.
My daughter will reach out for the TV remote to turn up the sound. My son will reach out as soon as she's let go in order to turn down the sound. As though this manoeuvre was not enough to ignite the sizzling bomb, he then says, "Groooossss! Zoe got butter from the popcorn all over the remote. Gross! That's so gross."
As though THAT were not enough to prompt my daughter to leap on her brother and rip out his throat with her bare teeth, she, instead, goes a much dirtier, bloodier route and teases him about his ADD, by saying, "He didn't take his pill today, did he?"
So he retaliates with the predictable, "You didn't take your smart pill today, did you?"
With a Cheshire grin, she will say, "I haven't stretched today. I should do that," as she reaches her disgustingly flexible leg over me, and balances her stinky foot precariously close to my son's nostrils; not close enough that she can be accused of doing so on purpose, but close enough that she is infringing upon his human right to not smell her toes all the while impeding his view of the television.
If I wasn't so busy trying to think up cruel and unusual punishment for them both, I'd probably be very impressed at how long they can go without beating the shit out of each other.