We're in survival mode now. Steve is almost home, the boys are arguing constantly (when they aren't ganging up on me) and I have already polished off one of Steve's last three 'special beers' that my cousin brought him back from St.Louis. I contemplated drinking them all in hopes that he would forget they were there in the first place, but I think that will just incite a riot...if he remembered.
I am hiding in the office, throwing out the occasional "Stop That" when I feel it might be necessary. You know, audio parenting. (For the novice, that's when you listen to the specific pitch of the scream before you jump and run.) Currently, they seem to be playing together pretty well. Even if I was in the room, I would be ignored.
Those two have their own games with unidentifiable names such as "Tay-Al, Tay-Al" and "Jearz". At first I thought it was just their language. They were communicating with eachother, playing little games, etc. Then I finally started paying attention to the actual game itself. "Tay-Al, Tay-Al" is the southern slang for "Tail, Tail" and the game consists of chasing the dog around the house in persuit of her tail. Yeah, she likes that about as much as I enjoy hearing the screaming. Part of me is enjoying the fact that they are leaving me alone AND the dog could use some exercise anyway. The second game "Jearz" is named so because they get on the rug and spin in circles until they fall down. In case you haven't picked up on it, "Jearz" is the sound a drill makes to a four-year-old. Pretty inventive if you ask me. Certainly, as with any little boy game, it gets violent. The eldest will throw his 45-pound-body like a projectile in the direct path of the littliest one. No warning, no consern for self-preservation. Nothing. He certainly has that 'watch this' mentality that will one day bite him. (Just hope I'm dead by then cause my "I told you so" would really annoy him.)