Cats and dogs
My older two kids are both about to wrap up their academic year. I fear and dread what the summer will bring.
Bob and Emme don't get along. They never have. He was 17 months old when she was born, and I think he was just old enough and just cognizant enough of the world around him to really resent her intrusion on his world. Add to that the boy's natural oppositional nature, and it's a volatile combination.
Almost every morning, my day starts with the banshee-like caterwauling of Emmeline suffering some real or imagined affront at the hands of her brother. Often it's the result of a border skirmish: The two of them are trying to occupy the same piece of furniture. Other times, the two siblings are vying for control of a natural resource: The milk in the fridge, the last bowl of Cocoa Puffs. Whatever the problem is, his reaction is anger and physical retaliation, and her reaction is screaming.
The one solace Bonnie and I have found is that from the hours of 8:15AM to 3:30PM, Bob and Emme are someone else's problem, and they're separated in different classrooms. That hasn't ended the trouble -- both of them have faced disciplinary reactions to various infractions during their studies this year -- but it has unquestionably made it quieter around here during daylight hours on weekdays.
In about two calendar weeks, both of them will be home around the clock, for two and a half months.