I used to marvel at how little Elijah and Luca fought. When I was a kid, my days were filled with punching, scratching and drop-kicking my twin and getting punched, scratched and drop-kicked by my older brother. Plus screaming.
My mother’s love of vodka is starting to make sense.
For years, Eli and Luca barely raised their voices at each other. More often than not, conflicts would end with a little whining and a large amount of tattling.
Within the last couple months, the boys have discovered the fine art of beating each other. And like most things that are both thrilling and bad for you, they’re addicted. They can barely be in the same room without attacking. The most minor infraction now leads to a tumbling, screaming mess.
Our floors are spotless!
Even though the boys are two years and twenty pounds apart, they’re pretty evenly matched. Luca’s constant athletics make him pretty strong for a shrimp. And Eli’s love of Youtube has let his muscles atrophy.
But like all children fights, they always end in crying. Mostly Luca, because it’s the best defense for a little brother. Mommmmmmmmm! Eli crushed my skull. Mommmmm! Eli broke all my fingers! Mommmm! Eli punctured my lung!”
Occasionally, there will be a real injury. For instance, yesterday at the cabin Eli shot Luca in the eye with a rubber band as a crescendo to an hours long fight. Real tears. Real concern we’d have to find a rural Michigan hospital. Thankfully he was okay, but Eli had to do some hard time without a phone in his room.
When you are banished to your room without screens, time has no meaning. I think Eli genuinely felt he’d been up there for an hour when we came down after five minutes to interrupt “The Great British Bake Off” to apologize.
We let him off the hook and said if he even so much as touched Luca for the rest of the night I would give his phone to a racoon.
Like all addicts, he took this to heart and then proceeded to sit on Luca, who screamed and we were off again.
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