Little Max and Sam are a bit of a challenge.  Now, I know boys will be boys, but our sweet angels have been known to push the envelope and our biggest challenge is to figure out which household items can be easily converted to weapons.

I’m not talking obvious – sure knives and scissors are considered dangerous by some.  But it’s the every-day candle or can of soup that can throw a parent off.   Did you realize that a dismantled Lego, when thrown with the right velocity and at the perfect angle, can take out a tooth?  Who knew?

Who’s the Boss?

But Craig and I are responsible parents and after a long debate with Max, and to his bitter disappointment, we have decided firearms are off-limits, though the jury’s still out on explosives.  I’m not saying that giving a shot-gun to an angry nine year-old with a vendetta is a bad choice, it’s just our choice.
 
Besides, who needs weapons when good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat can be just as effective?  And the bonus is it can be done anywhere.   My little guys love to fight at parties, at weddings, on the bus (a favorite), at concerts and movies – really, in just about any public venue you can think of (I think it’s the excitement of having a captive audience).   Why, just the other day I broke up an all-out brawl in the meat department at Costco.  And I only became involved when the manager had the nerve to ask us to leave.

Just another day. . .

The best thing about the physical abusive Max and Sam inflict on each other is the colorful language that accompanies the beatings.  For an eight and nine year-old, I’ll admit that  they  have a fairly sophisticated vocabulary. 

Though it’s kind of funny, and I don’t know how  they  got it mixed up, but  both my boys are under the  impression that  the phrase is “damn-god” not the other way around (as in “I’m going to knock his damn-god head off”).  How cute is that?

Now Max is my strategic planner.  Even when he was two, he knew exactly when to push his just-walking one year-old brother down the steps.  He picked on Sam brutally until we showed Sam how effective biting can be.  That seemed to even the playing board a bit.

It’s hard to squelch Sam’s fierce determination to retaliate after an unfair business practice by his brother.  I’m totally astonished at how long he can sit-in-wait for the perfect opportunity to kick Max in the groin.  I have seen him hold out for days before he finds just the right moment.  You have to admit it’s a virtue, that kind of patience.

Weapons training for children – are they ever too young?

Sam is considered by some, an expert in managing the staff, or spear as we sometimes refer to it.  Our “Sweetie-peetie-pumpkin-pie-Sammer” (my pet name!) is becoming so adept at handling this unique weapon, I’m thinking he could be a contender for the javelin in the 2016 Olympics.  Last week I found him working diligently to remove the handle base from my house broom.
 
“There!” he cried as he stood and began twirling.  That five-foot broom handle was turning so fast it was making my head spin.
 
“Light the ends on fire,” he shouted.

“That seems awfully dangerous,” I yelled back through the wind tunnel.  “Can’t we just tape some knives on the end?”

“I want the fire!” he screamed, tossing the stick high into the air.  It landed on the roof, between the rake and Craig’s new putter.

Breakin' the law, breakin' the law

We try not to get involved as we have been advised by the “kid whisperer” that it’s best if children learn to negotiate and solve their own problems without the aid of an adult.  This strategy does tend to throw people off as it can appear that the parent is ignoring the children’s bickering.  This was definitely the case last summer when my good friend, Stacie, came to visit and we took the boys to the beach.

All was going well until Max looked at Sam and smiled.  Apparently it was the “ha ha” smile and Sam wasn’t having any.  I paid no attention to the threats of drowning or even the slaps that turned to punches.  I turned a blind eye to the handfuls of sand that blew our way and only when a rock almost hit Stacie, did I step in and advise her to move her chair.
 
Of course, I explained our strategy and the theory behind it.

“How’s that working out for you?” she asked, in somewhat of a snotty tone (I thought).  But she doesn’t have children so she hasn’t a clue as to what she’s talking about.

Good help is hard to find

It has been difficult to hold on to sitters.  There has been more than one teenager that has gone home in tears and never returned.  We’re lucky that our current adult sitter, Maria, is an admitted masochist and enjoys the “suffering” the boys impose on her.  Though, she was a teensy upset when they locked her in the basement for an hour when they were just three and four.  Of course, now it’s a favorite story and almost always gets a laugh at social gatherings.  And, Maria’s eye tick has finally disappeared so it’s a win- win for everyone.

I know what you’re thinking and believe me, I feel the same way. . . it’s pretty obvious that the boys get their temperament from my husband and his side of the family.  He has admitted as much to me in our family therapy sessions.  Craig grew up the oldest of three boys, all two years apart, and there was more than one wall in their house that took an undeserved punch.
  
But those were the days when children didn’t feel comfortable expressing themselves in front of the adults that could spank them.  We don’t believe in corporal punishment (before nine in the morning), so we are forced to be much more creative.  Bribing and begging almost always seem to do the trick.

Click the picture to watch a short video of my talented children