Yesterday, murder was an option in our house. If it hadn't been for the fact that the "little darling" was writing exams (and I hoped the exam would do the job FOR me), it would have been a distinct option. However, by the time I got home, I had settled my thoughts into a steely determination. Here is what happened.
Last week, the LD (Little Darling = Arno), had to study. After numerous, countless times of saying nicely: Arno go study, and getting the reply: YES MOOOOOOOM. The reply changed after 2 days or so, becoming: but mom I know all my work - I have been through it THREE times already.
Then the weekend arrived, along with his best friend Keagan. Keagan stayed over on Friday night, and suddenly I was counting more blessings than I had considered before: Arno could have been a twin - horror.
We had giggling boys running around, bangs suddenly going off outside, boxes of matches disappearing, the cats were terrified, the birds kept flying away every time a cracker went off...you get the picture. At one such bang I marched out and threatened in an ugly voice: one more cracker - and I'll stick it were the sun don't shine. Eish - what have I become?
In between everything else, the boys wanted to shoot the air rifle, so we allowed them some limited shooting time. Werner told me to calm down - boys will be boys - leave them alone. But, every time an ominous silence sank around the house, I began holding my breath - waiting for an explosion of some sorts.
Well, all this came to an end when Keagan went home, and Arno finally sat down to study. Sunday evening he brought his books to be tested: great was my surprise, he only knew about HALF the work. This is the work he had been through THREE times , Mom??????????????
So, there began my unhappy streak with LD.
Yesterday morning, Werner came in from outside carrying his screw driver and some other tools. The boys had "borrowed" these and then left them lying carelessly around the house. Werner is so careful with his things. The evidence of the boys' total disregard of property was strewn around the computer room, the left overs of toys they had shot up. An aeroplane, a jewelery case, and a radio, taken apart and what was not taken apart - was shot apart.
I felt ill with anger and disgust. These things which they so casually threw away - could have rather been given to some children less fortunate than they. Werner again calmed me down with some wisdom: leave it for now... he has exams to write.
So..... the exam didn't kill him. I would have to do my own dirty work it seemed. When the LD got into the car, he got a very quiet, low voiced lecture of steely resolve. Along with the value of property lectures, the need to apologise, I added in a few more "new standards":
- I no longer want to hear a single word about GUNS, shots, calibres, or ANYTHING relating to shooting or destruction.
- I want intelligent conversation at the dinner table: try working GOOGLE,
- I do not intend to tell you again to study or clean your room
- DON'T ask or speak about the air rifle again in the foreseeable future if you value your life
Later, when the worst of the shock had worn off, he cleaned the kitchen, laid the dinner table, all without being asked.
Our dinner conversation was wonderful -not a single mention of guns.
It went something like this:
Arno: Mom what does IGNORANT mean.
Me: Ummm - well it means not knowing something. It has the connotation of not wanting to know, or not knowing something on purpose.
A while of silence, then :
Arno: What does BLISS mean?
Me: Bliss means wonderful, heavenly, why?
Arno: Well what does it mean when they say: Ignorance is bliss.
Me: Son, that was when I didn't know (and didn't want to know) what you were up to on Saturday: Ignorance was BLISS.
