A Morning

The boy kept referring to the lass using the first-name-middle-name construction. Where I come from, that signals great displeasure with the named individual. Usually, it comes from a parent to a child when the child is caught doing something egregiously wrong. In this case, I think it was more the lass’ general existence that the boy had a problem with.

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” was her reply.

Naturally, the boy did not oblige his sister.

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” she said again. This time, she punctuated it by half-heartedly hitting him on the arm.

“Stop hitting me,” the boy changed his tune.

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” the lass said. Again. It’s hard to describe the tone she uses when she’s riled like that. Every word is spoken harshly and in an angry tone that makes for a very distinctive delivery. The boy is completely nonplussed by it, though.

“Stop hitting me,” the boy repeated.

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!”

“Stop hitting me.”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!”

With this battle of wits raging on, I glanced at the clock and noted, mercifully, that it was time to go to school. I made the announcement to the kids.

“Dad, my sister is hitting me,” the boy called out as he got up to head for the car.

“No I am not!”

“Yes you are.”

“No I am not!”

“Yes you are.”

“No I am not!”

I had all but tuned them out. By my reckoning, there was no point to getting involved. The only thing I could do was start yelling. Then, each one would justify their behavior based on what the other had done to them. Then, I’d be forced to play judge for who was worse behaved. Then, I’d be “wrong” and would have to listen to why. Then, I’d engage in scorched earth tactics and ban them from ever using their mouths ever again for anything other than eating.

The boy got in one last dig. He was the first to the car, and thus the first to claim shotgun. Most importantly, he was the first in the car. So when his sister arrived and went to open the door, he pressed the LOCK button on the doors, thwarting her attempt to enter just as she pulled on the handle. The timing was so exquisite that I couldn’t help but admire it.

One second later, whatever peace had existed in the neighborhood was shattered by the shriek of the lass. Apparently, she didn’t think much of her brother’s timing. Shaking my head, I pushed the unlock button on the key fob, which thankfully also served as an OFF button for the lass’ screaming. She huffily climbed in, uttering dark mutterings that I couldn’t quite make out. I did not need to- I knew the gist of them.

The ride to school was silent. I’m not sure why. Perhaps they had expended their venom for each other. Perhaps they were going over the day to come- anticipating classes and interactions. Perhaps they were just zoning out for the boring ride in.

Whatever the reason, it was a relief.