Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Space (01/23/06)
TITLE: Kids, You Can’t Live With Them...
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At least thatâ€™s what Iâ€™m hoping for.
My husband wonâ€™t be home for another hour and the girls are upstairs doing their homework.
Anyway thatâ€™s what theyâ€™re supposed to be doing.
As if I could get so lucky.
Snuggling deeper into the cushions I become absorbed in the Opinion page.
Then the initial attack occurs.
I hear a thumping sound above my head.
â€śOwwww! Quit throwing things at me!â€ť
â€śI didnâ€™t mean to hit you! I was just trying to get your stuff out of my space!â€ť
â€śItâ€™s not your space! Itâ€™s my side of the room!â€ť
â€śNo itâ€™s not! Your side is over there!â€ť
â€śLord, give me strengthâ€ť I mutter to myself as I wait for the plaintive wail to come echoing down the stairs.
It comes within seconds.
I wait, hoping against hope that the opposing sides will somehow settle their dispute and no longer require the Generalâ€™s intervention.
Yea, right. Like thatâ€™s going to happen.
Another thump resounds above my head. Then a thud, which causes the whole house to shake.
Grudgingly I pull myself up from my cozy little nest and prepare to mediate a truce between the two sisters.
As I enter the war torn area a missile narrowly misses my head. The stuffed animal careens to the ground, joining the rest of its fallen comrades who lay helter skelter around the battlefield.
It appears that books and shoes were also used as weapons.
Excedrin, I need some Excedrin.
I glare at the girls.
â€śDo you mind telling me whatâ€™s going on here?â€ť
I should have known better.
Of course they donâ€™t mind telling me, as long as I believe their side of the story and not their siblingâ€™s.
Accusations fly as fingers point to the guilty party, which of course they both are.
I take a deep breath.
â€śGirls, enough of this fighting.â€ť
I point towards the closet that the 17 year old uses.
â€śCourtney that will be your space right there. You can hang your clothes up and display your knick knacks and keepsakes on the shelves in there.â€ť
Then I turn to my attention to her 9 year old sister.
â€śKatrina I want you to pick up all of your stuff and put it in your walk-in closet. Thereâ€™s plenty of room in there for your clothes, toys and books.â€ť
â€śNow get this mess cleaned up and finish your homework.â€ť
With that settled I leave them with a final warning.
â€śIf I hear any more arguing the person who is doing it will be grounded for the weekend. Is that understood?â€ť
â€śGood. Now get to work. I expect this room to be cleaned up by suppertime.â€ť
As soon as I turn my back they begin the task of cleaning up the debris.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Another family feud thwarted before it could reach world war proportions.
Chalk one up for Mom!
Whoops, a swelled head is not a good thing to have.
Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs I hear a complaint from up above.
â€śNo fair! Your space is bigger than mine!â€ť
I turn my face heavenwards.
â€śLord, tell me again why people want to have kids.â€ť
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