Both Chatterboxes

ib112 It’s nice, having teenagers who want to talk to you. It’s also faintly disconcerting to get a high-speed social download first thing in the morning. Just one of those things about motherhood. I read Chuck Wendig’s post on parenting this morning and had to smile, remembering the toddler phases for the Princess and Little Prince. I especially remember the latter, when he was placed in time out (the most severe punishment they ever received, mostly of five minutes’ duration so I could keep a straight face), stamping to his room and slamming the door, then opening it to scream “I HATE YOU” or “YOU HATE ME” or “I HATE ME” or “PENGUINS FLY,” or something equally profound. The Princess was not fond of such displays, preferring instead to go quietly to her room, then bury her face in a pillow and emit bloodcurdling screams.

Which, you know, fine. It doesn’t seem to have done them any harm. I can’t even remember the last time any of us were in time out–yes, sometimes Mommy needed a time out, either to calm down or to regain her composure/straight face. I probably should not have been tempted to laugh at so many of their childhood shenanigans, but it was better than anger over things that in the end were mere dips in the road. Growing up the helpless victim of rageaholics means I dislike angry scenes. There’s almost always a better way to handle things.

In any case, both chatterboxes are at school, and I’m just beginning to feel the coffee wake dormant synapses and edge me towards some manner of consciousness. I’m amazed I can hold conversations at all before noon, much less the complex ones that occur when a teenager has had all night for their complex little brain to fill up with questions and reminisces. This morning subjects ranged from hunger strikes to cat pee to school assemblies one would rather do calculus than attend.

Those last are surprisingly common.

Now it’s time for meditation, and a run, and wordcount. Kaia is just beginning to find out the Highlands are very different than the Rim, and in THE MARKED, we’re about to get to Unpleasant Encounters and Deadly Information.

Over and out…

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I wont even ask where your children learn such profanity… grin.