But usually there is squabbling and shoving and choruses of, "That's mine!" or "I had that first!" or "Give it back!" And then there's the shrieking.
They both do it.
And mama's had it.
Had. It. Said in a southern accent for dramatic effect.
One of them yells. I don't know if the yeller is yelling because he's being mutilated by the other or if the yeller is yelling because it makes him seem more fierce as he yanks a toy out of the other brother's hand. It's hard to know who the offending party is when one of them screams, is what I'm trying to say.
In this regard, Mary had it made. Don't get me wrong, this is probably the only time Mary had it easy. I mean, trying to explain a virgin pregnancy doesn't sound like a picnic in the park. Watching her son and Savior being brutally killed because of her sin--and mine--had to be the worst thing any mother has ever endured. But parenting. Well.
"Mom! Jesus hit me!"
No, he didn't.
"Jesus is lying!"
No, he's not.
"Mama, Jesus stole my toy."
James, he did not. Go sit in the corner.
"Why do you always think Jesus is so perfect?"
BECAUSE HE IS!
Sigh. It might have been difficult to be one of Jesus's siblings. But his mother, well, she always knew it wasn't Him.
I can identify the screamer but beyond that I'm at a loss. Garrett points his finger at Matthew. Matthew points his finger at Garrett. They both go to their room. Because the shrieking thing is making me insane.
Today I told them that the next time they started yelling, they were getting separated. Sure enough, several minutes later, they were both howling at each other. I told Garrett he was no longer allowed to play with his brother and to go in the backyard. "I don't want to! It's hot out*!" I gave him my most hideous glare--the one that I've fine tuned to specifically say, I mean serious business--and he started to cry. But he went outside. Matthew toddled down the stairs a moment later.
"I go owside. I go owside wih Gehwit." He went for the door.
"No," I replied. He looked at me, bewildered. "You aren't allowed to play with your brother until you can stop screaming." He burst into tears.
Garrett was in the backyard wanting to get in. Matthew stood inside wanting to get out. But they weren't yelling. And that was blessed bliss.
*I think it was about 75 degrees. I wasn't torturing him. I promise.