 They keep showing up at the worst possible moments. Maybe while
playing make-believe with her dolls, or when she just settled into a
cozy corner of her bed with a good book, or, heaven help us, when
she is changing her clothes.Her brothers' presence requires her
to stop whatever she is doing and persuade them to leave. Whatever
she says to get them to leave has absolutely no effect, no matter
how loudly she says it.
They are compelled to finish whatever inane thought had jumped
into their head, and worse, make sure you hear it.
"Did you know..."
"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"
"...that my maple and brown sugar oatmeal..."
"OUT!!!"
"...is actually a weapon..."
"I'm warning you!"
"...against the deadly Yeerks? ... Hey! That hurt! Mom, she hit
me!"
"He won't get out of my room!"
"What? I was just telling you something."
My daughter, being the only girl in the house, is inundated with
such displays of male-oriented immaturity. I am her only ally.
I sympathize with her situation and dole out retribution if
necessary, but I can't make them grow up any faster. She has done
everything she can to keep them out. She made signs for her door
that say, "KEEP OUT! That Means You!" Her brothers ignore them.
She armed herself with a squirt gun for some behavioral training.
They stole her squirt gun.
[to top of second column]
 |
 "I've even put boy repellents all over my room, Mom!"
"Boy repellents?" I ask.
"Yeah, like fairies and flowers and rainbows and unicorns --
stuff like that."
"And that didn't work?" I was amazed.
My son replied, "The force is strong with this one."
"I'll give you some force right between your eyes if you don't
stay out of my room!" my daughter threatened.
Thinking, no doubt, that this situation called for a more
creative approach, my daughter whispered into my ear, "Mom, what is
he allergic to?"
"I thought he was allergic to unicorns. Clearly, that is not the
case."
As I was unloading the dishwasher later in the day, my son came
to tell me his latest unbridled thought.
"Hey, Mom, if a mouse lived on an island with no vegetation, do
you think he'd grow webbed feet so that he could swim and catch
fish?"
"Not being acquainted with said mouse, I couldn't say. How about
giving me a hand with these dishes?"
"Um, I think I hear dad calling me."
Hmmm, I thought, as he hurried away. I think I just figured out
what the boy is allergic to.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
