“That didn’t sound good.” said the woman sitting next to me.
“You don’t have boys, do you.” I answered.
We had a swim team related meeting at our house tonight. My wife is traveling so I asked for the meeting to happen a little earlier so we could wrap the meeting and I could get the boys to sleep at a reasonable time. The group of five other adults were kind enough to fulfill my request and we were fairly efficient in getting the meeting done.
The husband of one of the women who came over was traveling as well so she asked if should could bring her son over, who happens to be the best friend of my youngest son.
The hilarious thing about these two boys when they’re together is how physical they are without either breaking anything – toys, anything in their surroundings, or themselves – and how equally matched they are for determining how far is too far, and how much is too much.
No sooner had we started our meeting than they started kicking the crap out of each other. What was disconcerting to the others there for the meeting were the sounds pouring down upon them from the room above where we were sitting. The thumping and banging, thankfully didn’t last too long.
I knew what they were doing: pretending to be superheros, or X-Games participants, and jumping off of the bed of my youngest. I also knew the jumping wouldn’t last long. My youngest knew better than to push being that loud for too long. Then out came the swords. You could here the plastic clacking together as their duel progressed back and forth, up and down the upstairs hallway.
And just as this mother was looking at me, wondering where my breaking point was, and whether it was time to go and stop our two children from making such a raucous, they stopped.
After which, one of the other mothers said, “Did you know that there are some children in your driveway? Oh, they’re yours.”
They had come downstairs – my youngest, his best friend, and my oldest – and gone outside to kick soccer balls and ride skateboards.
All was right in the world of boys.