New Found Glory

My kiddos. Still getting along. I realize I'm tempting the intenet gods right this very minute but I like to live dangerously. That and I'm still, after two and a half weeks, in shock.

There were arguments, lots and lots of arguments. "He pushed me", "She said she'd do XYZ and she changed her mind AGAIN", "I'm tell-ing"...you guys know how it is.

And then came the gypsy moth catepillars. They decided to catch a few and make a habitat for them. My son fancies himself to be a mini-researcher. The habitat? His radio flyer wagon, with sticks and leaves and bark and moss. Duct tape running up the sides where the wooden rails don't quite meet and two pieces of plywood for the lid. The best part, no assistance was requested by the kids for, like, two hours while they were working on it. And there was no arguing.

That was the beginning of the end. They would get up early, six a.m., and get dressed - my son picking out the girlie's clothes, and head for the great 1/4 acre wilderness we call a yard. They'd pick catepillars for the habitat or spend an hour making signs for their new catepillar business. 1 cent for the little guys and two cents for the big yucky ones - in case you're interested. I'd have to call them in for breakfast.

It has since graduated to drawing together, playing tag in the sprinkler, the boy reading to the girlie as they spend more nights than not tucked into their sleeping bags on the floor in one of their bedrooms, selling their pokemon cards to each other. That'll be two cents for Rattata, please.

They are currently in the cellar with my craft paints. Which are really not my craft paints at all, seeing as how I'm not very good at all things crafty. They are my "kids you've been good you can use MY paints today" paints.

I was reading, I think it might have been here, but I've forgotten - that her pediatrician told her that as long as the kids are good at least 60 percent of the time, they're good kids - don't expect too much. Seems a little low, but she has two young boys. A few weeks ago I would've taken the sixty percent and run with it. Before the gypsy moths, when the kids were together I was getting a solid thirty percent. Fighting and attitudes flying. The Quest for the Cup contest is still going on, but the points being minused were outweighing all of their good deeds.

We are now tipping the scales at a conservative 85 percent. Yes, it's THAT good. The rewards are small but there are rewards. They come in the form of CD's I've made for them or ice cream right after school or a pack of Pokemon cards or listening to my Green Day CD for a dance party or maybe staying up late to watch a movie. Not that we wouldn't have done those things before but certainly not with the frequency that we do them now. Those are their rewards.

And my reward? My son is the big brother my daughter has always wanted him to be. The big brother I always knew he could be. And she is his best friend.

Added after the fact because I sound like I'm living in a fantasy land:
Of course I know that they're little and this could all come crashing down around me in, say, five minutes. But the key to the success of this new found glory would be the fact that I'm not letting myself get overly worked up over a two second or five minute argument. They go to their rooms for some cooling off (or in the case of ninety degree heat - alone sweatbox time) and it ends with an apology and a handshake.