sibling fight | Good Times with Jess

I love summer! And I’m sooo ready to put my kids on the bus. Any bus really. It’s time for them to gooo.

They started the summer off with a 90/10 split. 90% getting along and 10% ready to kill each other.

I don’t want to say the split has completely inverted, but maybe?

Yesterday we were fighting over one Lego brick. And when I say we, I do not mean me.

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I cannot emphasize enough how my kids can create a fight about ANYTHING.

But also it can’t possibly really be about one Lego brick. Maybe it’s about school’s starting. Maybe it’s because BB has decided she’ll wake up at 6am to get in the swing of things for middle school, but isn’t going to bed any earlier.

That’s definitely not helping.

RB, my 6-year-old, LOVES Legos and builds all the time. BB, my 10-year-old, likes legos and likes to play legos with RB.

RB worships the ground BB walks on and would much rather play with BB than on her own.

BB requests I partition off the yard so RB is not allowed to approach her. That goes as well as you’d think.

Playing Legos together usually works for everyone. They have plenty of sets, and many builds that are original creations.

Some Legos started off as BB’s and some as RB’s, but a clear delineation does not last long. If we were in a court of law with any one Lego brick, a jury would never be convinced beyond a reasonable doubt to reach a verdict on ownership.

(Yes I’ve been consumed by the Clancy trial and jury verdicts are on my mind.)

If by some small miracle my kiddos really did manage to keep track piece by piece, Opal the Destructo Cat is on the scene and has confiscated a fair share of bricks.

We keep cleaning out treasures from under the couch, but that’s not as exciting as it once was.

At first we found things from years ago. Now it’s just a 6-pack of mice from yesterday.

In case it’s not obvious from my writing, but I hope it is! I live for all things funny.

When I’m not losing my mind over a sibling fight, I’m trying to incorporate jokes and imitations of inanimate objects into my parenting.

BB said I did my best one yet this summer. Next time you see me, I’ll be happy to do it for you. I was one of her poor poops she didn’t want to let out at camp.

Which in retrospect is ironic, because I spent the summer yelling at everyone,

“NO MORE POTTY TALK!!!”

It’s also an uphill battle, because everyone in my family except I can fart on command. Arguably a very amazing talent.

When I say no more potty talk and no one says anything, but then BB gives me a side-eye and farts, I’ve got nothing.

BB gave me the highest parenting compliment I could ever dream of. From the back of the car she said,

“You’re the funniest mom!”

“I AM?!?!?!? YOU REALLY THINK SO!??!?!?!??!”

BB dislikes my over-enthusiastic reactions. She immediately hedged her bets,

“Well you’re the funniest mom I know and I don’t know that many.”

Still! I’ll take it!

And lest you think this summer was just beach, Legos, and poop imitations, we also have a house project which may or may not be nearing completion. Send thoughts and prayers.

Captain has spent years building or intending to build a retaining wall along our driveway.

The concrete was poured this week and the forms come off today for a big reveal.

Captain presented the math to me the other day on how much he spent on all things wall versus what it would’ve cost if someone had come and built it for us 3 years ago.

You may be surprised to hear we didn’t really save much money, BUT we’ve had the joy of the process. Which is priceless?

RB DOES love tools, building, and helping her dad, so that has SOME value. Maybe not 3 years worth, but who knows?!

When her future partner tells me RB is on year whatever of some unfinishable house or car project, I’ll enjoy a commiseration drink with them and pray it was nature not nurture.

While we’re talking about nature versus nurture, there’s BB’s sense of humor. She told me,

“I’m funny just like you!”

“You are so funny!!!” She really is. Yes I’m biased, but she is.

Then BB added,

“Yeah, I’m funny and then I get annoying.”

“Really?”

“Like you.”

Wheels up in a week. No stowaways allowed

It’s the final days of school and countdown to beach camp.

My two campers are ready. We’re stocked up on sunscreen, bathing suits and snacks. We’ve added a sloth float to our pile of beach gear because that’s both of my children’s favorite animal.

BB has long loved the sloth for whatever usual reasons people pick favorite animals. Then in the car the other day RB told me,

“The sloth is my favorite animal.”

“Really?? Since when?”

“Since it was BB’s favorite.”

Right.

In 2025 we’re headed to the Galapagos. This has been a bucket-list trip for me since elementary school when they showed us the underwater robots exploring there.

Fifteen years ago as I roamed around South America I counted my dollars. I could travel South America for four months or I could use the same money for one week in the Galapagos.

I chose four months, but held out hope that someday I’d be back. And as we continue to destroy our planet, it seems like the sooner the better for this trip.

It will be in honor of Captain and my ten-year-wedding anniversary. Yes we’re bringing the kids.

There are no sloths in the Galapagos, but there ARE sloths in the Ecuadorian rainforest. I hadn’t planned on going there in addition to the Galapagos, but considering we’ll only be a few hours away when we fly in to Quito I contemplated it. I asked our Ecuadorian travel agent. She told me,

“I’ve been working in tourism and visiting the rainforest for ten years. I have only ever seen a sloth in the wild once.”

Ok. Nix that. Maybe my children would like to consider blue footed boobies as their new favorite animal. I’m sure there’s a corresponding beach float.

RB has an extra week of school that BB doesn’t have. The same thing happened last year and I pulled RB out early to get to the beach. As much as I want to be in my lounge chair with a book, I’m having a hard time figuring out why I would miss out on several days of RB being in school.

Once BOTH kids are out of school, I’ll be in my lounge chair, with my book, counting the paragraphs before they start World War III.

No matter what we do, they will find something to fight about. But the total and complete hopelessness of it was brought home to me a couple weeks ago.

We were at a playground covered with standard-issue wood chips. Thousands and thousands of wood chips. Not as many as grains of sand on the beach, but close enough.

I was head down in my book. I heard some screeching. I kept my head down. The shouting escalated. I peered over the top of my book. Then a blood-curdling yell from one of my beloved children.

I called them over. BB thrust her hand at me. In her palm was one of the MANY wood chips. RB whined,

“BB won’t share her wood chip!”

I looked at BB. She shrugged.

I told RB,

“Go find another wood chip.”

“NOOOOOO I want THAT one.”

I asked BB,

“Can you share that wood chip?”

“But I’m the one who found the most perfect wood chip.”

Of course.

All BB would have to do is declare any other one of the thousands of wood chips “the most perfect wood chip” and RB would want that one. But how to telepathically relay this?

I tell them,

“You have one more chance to figure this out.”

You don’t need me to tell you they did NOT figure it out. I took the wood chip and put it in my pocket. They both lost their minds.

I told them,

“We can leave or you can go play.”

They went to play.

If you’re wondering what happened to “the most perfect wood chip” that everyone forgot about. It is well laundered and living its best life indistinguishable from all the other treasures in my yard.

Here’s to finding the most perfect grain of sand and keeping it all for myself.

I’m ready to beach. May the best person win.