I’ve hit the metaphorical wall.
That glorious point in the kid’s summer vacation where they are at each other’s throats, trying to kill one another, and I am at theirs, trying to kill them.
It’s bad. Last summer I was locked in my bedroom with a stack of notecards and a textbook to read, and Jake was running the show. I liked last summer better.
Lily was gone for two weeks at the beach with some of my family…but, she’s the easy kid, so the screaming, fighting, and wrestling to the death didn’t let up at all with only 2/3 of my children at home.
It’s just these boys.
I swear that they are literally trying to kill each other.
Last night, I broke up a brawl. Avery slammed the door in Jack’s face, knocking his tooth loose, and Jack went postal on him, and punched him square in the face. Ave didn’t like that, and went all Ralphie on him. Sitting atop him, swinging wildly, muttering under his breath, while Jack pleaded with him to stop.
We’re going stir crazy, I think.
They’re a motley crew, my three…