When Cailey was a baby, she had to endure a two year old sister who delighted in slapping her on the head every time she walked by. After administering the requisite punishment for head slapping (which was time out, in her crib, a fate worse than death) I warned Emme that someday Cailey would be a formidable foe. And I was right. Cailey, who inherited a good deal of Irish scrappiness, doesn’t take any nonsense from her older sister. And can handily clean her clock.
So it is not unusual for Emme to now devote her thirst for treachery on an unsuspecting baby brother. Again, I’ve warned her. Jensen is going to top her in height, weight, strength, and orneriness by the time he’s 12. If not sooner. Still, she persists.
The other day the three offspring were playing in the backyard. I have to pause to tell you that Lana, the Maple Tree, finally had the once hot-pink hula hoop extracted from her uppermost branches. Fiddledaddy discovered that if he extended the lightbulb changing pole thingy (used for vaulted ceilings) to the full height, he could reach up into Lana’s branches and coax the hula hoop down.
And sadly, after nearly 2 years up in the tree, the hula hoop broke into 6 or more pieces when it came crashing down to the ground. Prompting Cailey to announce that EVERYONE in the family owed her a new hot pink hula hoop.
Then the pole was inadvertently left out in the yard. And I had forgotten about it. The children were laughing and frolicking, so I thought I’d try to return an e-mail while everyone was occupied. I could sort of see and hear them outside of my window, which was all well and good until I heard a blood curdling scream from Jensen.
It seemed that Emme had picked up the pole and for sport, was chasing her brother about the yard. I surmised from the various accounts of three unreliable sources that things got out of hand, and Jensen’s face made contact with the business end of the pole.
He had a small cut right by his eye, that was already causing his eye to swell. There was much screaming, apologizing, panicking, and general mayhem. After icing his eye, we could see that our boy was going to have an impressive black eye.
He spied himself in the mirror, which calmed him somewhat as he noted, “I look very boyish, don’t I?” It’s very important of late, that in Jensen’s world, he is seen as boyish. From spiking his hair, all the way down to his muscle shirts.
That night we all made the trek to Wal-Mart to do a little grocery shopping. Because as a homeschooling family with two parents who work at home, we don’t spend nearly enough time together…
We ran into the sweet wives of both our pastor, and our children’s pastor. They both noticed Jensen’s shiner, and asked him about it. He spared no detail as he recounted how his sister nearly blinded him and that she delights in torturing him, which is WRONG, since he’s just a little boy.
All eyes turned to Emme, who was silently praying for the flooring to swallow her whole. With silent delight, I listened to my Jensen totally throw his older sister under the bus. In front of the pastor’s wife. And the wife of the children’s pastor (Emme’s pastor, as it were).
I didn’t say it as I looked at my first born, but in my head I was all I TOLD YOU SO. DO NOT MESS WITH THE BOY. HE WILL TAKE YOU DOWN. DOWN.
We’ve decided that as penance, Emme will be a “helper” for Jensen this week. She has to make his bed, and pretty much do his bidding.
But I think it would be wise if I double checked his bed and meals just to be safe.
Because old habits, they die hard.