Tyisms
I’m in the kitchen. The kids are in their room. I hear:
“Gimme my book, Kyle!”
“No!”
“Gimme it!”
“No!”
[thump]
“Ahhh! Mommmy waaahhhhhh”
I leave the kitchen to see wth. Kyle comes out of the room and walks toward me.
“One two three four five. Stay alert. Stay alive,” I chant while rubbing his arm.
“Kanks.”
“Ty, come here please.”
Smiling, “Yes?”
“Did you hit Kyle?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not allowed to hit people. Do you like it when Kyle hits you?”
[long pause]
I ask again, “Do you like it wh-”
“Yes, I do like it.”
I try my darndest to maintain a straight face, but he sees right through me. Laughing, he runs to his room. Kyle hangs out in the kitchen with me while I finish washing dishes.
I am completely muddled by the child-rearing process.

