Newspaper in hand I settle down on the couch for some quiet time before supper.
At least that’s what I’m hoping for.
My husband won’t be home for another hour and the girls are upstairs doing their homework.
Anyway that’s what they’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.
“Owwww! Quit throwing things at me!”
“I didn’t mean to hit you! I was just trying to get your stuff out of my space!”
“It’s not your space! It’s my side of the room!”
“No it’s not! Your side is over there!”
“Lord, give me strength” 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 General’s intervention.
Yea, right. Like that’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.
“Do you mind telling me what’s going on here?”
I should have known better.
Of course they don’t mind telling me, as long as I believe their side of the story and not their sibling’s.
Accusations fly as fingers point to the guilty party, which of course they both are.
I take a deep breath.
“Girls, enough of this fighting.”
I point towards the closet that the 17 year old uses.
“Courtney 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.”
Then I turn to my attention to her 9 year old sister.
“Katrina I want you to pick up all of your stuff and put it in your walk-in closet. There’s plenty of room in there for your clothes, toys and books.”
“Now get this mess cleaned up and finish your homework.”
With that settled I leave them with a final warning.
“If I hear any more arguing the person who is doing it will be grounded for the weekend. Is that understood?”
“Good. Now get to work. I expect this room to be cleaned up by suppertime.”
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.
“No fair! Your space is bigger than mine!”
I turn my face heavenwards.
“Lord, tell me again why people want to have kids.”
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