This happened to me on a Monday, our first day of home school. I was making pancakes and I told Kenson to go wake Karter up and tell him I was making pancakes for breakfast. In my delirium, I envisioned Kenson skipping down the hall, butterflies flitting about, birdies, singing sweetly on the window sill. He gently leans over his sleeping brother whispering softly, "Little brother.... Mommy dear is making us pancakes. Won't you please join us?" My darling offspring would then walk back into the kitchen arm in arm with broad smiles on their faces.
What was I thinking?
I KNOW that this would never, ever happen in my house..... with my boys. Yet, for some reason, I did it anyway.
Was I drunk on French Vanilla Coffemate or what?
What did happen is this: Somehow when the words left my mouth and entered into the ears of Kenson they turned into "Please, please go torture your brother and see just how mad you can make him." So Kenson, happy to oblige, sped down to Karter's room, leaped onto his bed and began jumping, up and down.
Karter, even under the best circumstances, is not a morning person. These were not the best circumstances and he began to scream like a banshee. I have never heard a banshee scream, but I imagine they sound similar to Karter in the height of his fury.
I intervened.
Karter stopped his screaming.
Kenson left Karter's room only to return a few minutes later to continue afflicting his brother. This time he decided to poke him randomly at intervals as he was trying to fall back asleep.
There really are no words to describe what happened next.
Let's just say it was ugly, real ugly.
I got angry, real angry.
This was our first day of homeschool.
It did not go well.
In hindsight, I probably should have just postponed the first day until Tuesday, but I didn't. (please see first paragraph)
