Forced Settlements

"He's looking at me!"

"She hit me!

"He's being mean!"

"She took my cookie!"

"I wanna watch my show!"

"I wanna watch my show!"

The pain begins behind my right eye, and grows to jackhammer strength. It doesn't help that I've been staring at a computer for four hours straight; my contact lenses have turned to pieces of Scotch tape. The pendulum swung wide; they used to get along well, would play together, would share snacks. Now they fight for attention like jackals over a rotting gnu carcass. What one has, tangible or intangible, the other wants. To his credit, Lucas rarely hits back. On the flip side, every blow she lands elicits a howl and conjured-up tears. This is an afternoon like so many others: I have a fuck-ton of work to plow through, and I'm refereeing a cage match.

Time outs don't work. Lucas' room is his Briar Patch. "Don't make me go in there!"  And of course I do, and so he lies on his bed, reading a comic book. Winning! For a few weeks, Zoë had her Naughty Chair, a bar stool just tall enough that she couldn't climb down. She hated being trapped, high above the kitchen floor. Courage and a growth spurt changed all that. Yelling doesn't work. I hate to do it, they know I hate to do it, and so there's no threat behind the volume. 

The Internet is good for many things - YouTube videos of guys wiping out on skateboards, for instance - but I rarely find good parenting advice. Yesterday, I was checking out my Facebook page; a friend had posted an intriguing remedy for her boys' fights, and so I decided to give it a go. What the hell, right? Couldn't hurt.

Another scuffle, this time over...God knows. Something about a toy. "Both of you. Sit down. On the couch." They complied. This was new. They were intrigued.

"Hold hands."

"Huh?" A simultaneous response. Good.

"You heard me. Hold hands."

They did. And looked at me, puzzled. Excellent.

"Now, you're gonna sit there nicely, holding hands, until I say you can get up."

A pin dropped. I heard it.

I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water. This was brilliant, I thought. I made a note to thank my friend for the tip.

"DAAAAD! ZOË'S NOT HOLDING MY HAAAAAAAND."

Sigh. The road to peace is long, and rocky.