Am I the Only One?

Today is Saturday. Thursday was the last day of school: the beginning of summer, the end of confinement and the commencement of freedom from homework, early waking and daylight bedtimes.

I'm ready to send them back.

It's been two days and I've already had my fill of bickering, fighting and wailing. I've overheard too many times:
"MOM! I ACCIDENTALLY BUMPED LEE AND NOW HE'S TRYING TO HIT ME!"
or
"YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE PLAYED WITH IT!"
"WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE PUT IT AWAY!"
"WELL IT'S NOT YOURS, YOU SHOULDN'T PLAY WITH IT!"
or
"ALEX I TOLD YOU TO GO LIKE THIS!"
"I ONLY WENT LIKE THIS!"
"GO LIKE THIS!"
"I WAS, BUT IN FAST MOTION!"
smack
"OW!"

That's my favorite. "Ow." We hear it a lot around here, because it's a direct result of the way that Lee processes his displeasure. By hitting. There are not words to fully communicate how tired I am of hearing, "Lee's trying to hit me with a stick!" Aren't they supposed so play nicely if they're outside?

A great indication of the frequency of verbally-expressed frustration around here is Cora. Her first word was "peekaboo" followed by "nonononono," "num," "Mommy" and her newest: "bobbip." Stop it. No kidding. No joke. No exaggeration. The child with less than 10 words in her vocabulary says 'stop it.'

Lee expresses everything in physical ways. Alex and Abby are tired of being pushed around by their little brother, so treat him less than respectfully. Abby talks to him like he's a germ. In turn, he pesters them more, pokes them oftener and hits them harder. He's mean to them, so they're rude to him in return. It's all a wicked downward spiral, and Cora's catching on. Ugh. One day (inabouttwentyyears) they'll realize that the golden rule really does work, and that he'll begin to treat them nicely when they're nice to him for more than 5 seconds. And he'll realize that hitting them isn't producing the desired result of obesiance.

And in the meantime, I'd like to enroll in year-round school. Starting Monday. Can Lee start kindergarten a year early?