A Thunderous Week

I've officially taken up a new profession. Good-bye English Education degree. So long Bachelor of Arts degree that was really just a lot of reading and reading and writing and writing---good thing I love doing both of those things. You're looking at a bona fide, certified, real deal...Referee! Give me a whistle and some polyester black and white striped shirts and call it a day!

That's right! I've been giving out red cards, ejecting thunderous sons from the game and exacting hefty fines on these two cats.

The Sons of Thunder have been in full fighting mode this week. No mercy, no grace. All "He touched me", "He's got my (insert any item in our house)", "He's being loud". Lots of lessons have been learned this week about the good 'ole things...sharing, loving, showing grace, being nice and my favorite..."Sounds like a personal problem. Work it out." I like to think that's teaching my boys, my boisterous little men how to think through situations, how to work on relationships without an intervention.

There has been some fun this week. When my boys play together it usually involves taking a normal activity and making it an extreme one. For example: Cozy Coupe Extreme.

Fred and Barney here like to take turns riding this car from the top. They can entertain themselves for a long time doing this. And then...

This happened. If there's a limit to push, they will push it. When they're doing this little stunt, they are moving that little car as fast as their Flintstone feet will allow them. I'm not a prophet, but I forsee some visits to the ER in our future.

J.O. is warning James to "Hold on tight!" It did all end well with no broken bones, but then they got mad and started fighting again.

My conflict resolution for this situation...take a picture! 

We've all survived this week of WWE RAW. I'm sure there will be more episodes and I'll be able to hone my refereeing skills. It was a tough week---I'm fully convinced that whining and fussing are forms of torture---some country's government is using them somewhere, surely. Cassette tapes---yes cassettes---filled with hours of children whining and saying "mama" over and over until your head explodes and you begin to see dragons and rainbows.

But then there's a break in the storm and this happens...

Spooning of their own volition. This isn't some form of discipline to deter them from fighting. They just got over "it" and are friends now---no, brothers...The Sons of Thunder.

And it's always good to be their mom. Always.