"Do It !"

Last week we had our cousin Madeline staying with us. The kids adore her, especially Sid who shows her delight by jumping on Maddie every chance she gets. I was really hoping my children would be on their best behaviour during her visit, but realistically I knew that was wishful thinking.

Usually with Rob not getting home until late, and Lindsay having to start work two nights a week at 6:30, we have two sittings for meals, one for the kids at a reasonable time, and the second for Rob and I later on. When the opportunity arises, we welcome the chance for the family to sit and eat together, although after the other night's debacle I'm not sure why.

Grady, who I think has had a few too many later nights, was quite belligerent and refusing to eat dinner, but I insisted he still sat with us at the table, which he did stone faced throughout the meal.  He did or said something,  I don't know what, but it pissed Lindsay off, and she retaliated by calling him "Small Balls". He immediately countered with "Torpedo Tits" and soon the insults were flying fast & furious. I couldn't keep up with who was saying what and I'm yelling at them both to cease and desist. 
 
Sid decided this would be an excellent time to squirt mustard on Grady's head. Where this notion came from I have absolutely no idea, and it is certainly not the kind of meal time behaviour that we condone. Fortunately she voiced her intentions first, giving Grady and I the opportunity to make a grab for the mustard bottle in a preemptive strike. The cap which had been securely attached, suddenly popped off as we grappled with it, and I have to admit my self preservation instincts kicked in, as I let go of the mustard and ducked for cover instead. Fortunately Rob, not as cowardly as I, made a play for the mustard bottle and wrestled it out of Sidney & Grady's grasp. He admonished them both and glared at me - like this was my fault ?  Sidney took the rebuke as she always does - grinning - but Grady decided to go one step further and started answering back.

By this point I'd had enough and told Grady to go upstairs and get into his pajamas. He was destined for an early bedtime. There was obviously mutiny in the air because he outright defied me with a resounding "No!". It was time to bring out the big guns, and I warned him that if he hadn't gone upstairs by the count of three I would drag him up there by his hair. I'm sure that is one of the reasons he keeps his hair in a buzz cut, because I find it is so much harder to grab a handful when it's short. I started counting and he continued to sit there glowering at me. Poor Maddie looked on in horror, while Sid, positively giddy with delight at the opportunity to see her brother get into more trouble, sat there chanting "Do It ! Do It!".

Grady was obviously willing to push the envelope, because he waited until the last possible second to pelt upstairs, with me hot on his heels, Sidney's cheers of encouragement echoing in my head. So much for the hopes of an enjoyable  family dinner. I haven't totally given up on my dream of a mealtime resplendent of a Norman Rockwell painting, but it might have to be with someone else's family.