About Denise: I am silly and sarcastic. I’m a wife, mom, and step-mom. I walk around with my heart on my sleeve. My blog is a sometimes funny and always honest take on life, family & self discovery. Find her blogging at According to Denise.
My brother is three years younger than I am and when we were little we used to play together all the time. GI Joe, Star Wars, building blocks, cars. I could even convince him every so often to play school.
Everyday though, we fought. About anything and everything.
Knock down, drag out, kicking, screaming kind of fighting. He may have been younger but it wasn’t long before he was stronger.
We knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons. No one could make me more angry and frustrated than my brother.
Eventually we grew out of the bickering and fighting phase of our childhood.
You know how parents tell their kids to behave otherwise they will end up having kids just like them? Well, it isn’t an idle threat. It does indeed happen.
For I gave birth to my brother and myself.
When my son and daughter play together, they can be having the best time. Until they disagree. On anything and everything.
Then the fighting starts and I feel like I am in some weird flashback to my own childhood.
Let me tell you, it is not at all fun to be the parent in the scenario. Trying to explain to your kids that they need to work out a compromise and that they will have so much more fun if they work together and don’t fight. I can’t tell you the number of times I have almost written out an apology letter to my parents begging their forgiveness for not listening when they told me those same things.
Honestly, I can’t figure out how I possibly thought fighting with my brother was fun as a child. We either got hurt or got in trouble or both. None of those things are fun.
Last week my son and daughter were outside collecting rocks for hours. Not a single fight. They come in and announce their shocking discovery.
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