Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Do you remember chanting that on the playground if a fight erupted?  I do.  Usually it was a couple of boys scrapping.  Every once in a while it was girls.  It even happened in highschool from time to time.  I was NOT a fighter.  I'm a peacemaker...well, most of the time anyhow.

That's the chant that has been going through my mind for the past 15 minutes as my kiddos pick up trash from the yard.  Yes, son, I do understand that it's not our trash; I do know the neighbors are careless and we end up with their trash in our yard.  Yes, girl child, Oliver does have to help.  Oliver, you get off your rear and HELP.  After mean momma comments, they stayed outside. 

I have an open window on that side of the house and have been listening to them fuss.  One doesn't think the other is doing enough.  Apparently girl child hung the trash bag up and the first born can't put heavy stuff in it.  Girl child gets mad at young son because he takes it down and won't hold it open.

FINALLY!  The yard is clean and first born takes the bag to the dumpster.

Wow.  These are the same kids that worked together this morning to clean the dining room as a surprise for me.  Why can't they seem to do the same thing 9 hours later in the front yard?  My guess:  It's because I asked them to do it.


  1. Oh, man, does that sound all to familiar! LOL!

  2. HAHA! Yeah, it's because you askked them. Mine do the same thing! They'll plan to work on something together and it goes wonderfully. I ask them to do something and it's constant fighting and whining about what the OTHER one ISN'T doing!

  3. that is all too familiar here too... it is so frustrating