Of all the things that exhaust me as a mother in this household, it’s the drama that depletes me most.
This morning, there was a scuffle upstairs and, predictably, moments later, Gabby and Raphael ran, pushing and shoving, to be the first to appear before me.
“He did, he did, he did …!”
“She did, she did, she did …!”
Of course they both did.
The real drama came, though, when I calmed them both down a bit and asked Gabby to tell her side of the story.
Raphael simply couldn’t stand it.
He put his hands over his ears and shouted over her, “She’s lying! She’s lying! … She’s lying like DEATH FIRE!”
Like death fire.
It’s such an gloriously vivid phrase, I think I will adopt it:
You two are wearing me out … like DEATH FIRE.
I’m sending you both to your rooms … like DEATH FIRE.
You will get along or at least avoid each other for the rest of the morning or you won’t be coming with us to the playground later today and I mean it .. like DEATH FIRE.