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I took the boys to the park after school today, and Mikey’s friend and her mother met us there.  The kids have such a good time, and B. and I can catch up!  We were laughing about how both of our kids get crazy in the evening.  It seems that the younger child in both families takes the brunt of this overtired burst of energy that causes kids under 8 to be horrible human beings. What I mean is that the big brother (or sister) can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves, and are constantly in the little one’s space.  The natural result is tears, then Mom hollering, then the older child grinning and laughing, then Mom knotting her fingers together to avoid slapping the insolent smile right off his face.  No wonder why dads everywhere want to head for the hills after work!

Then I have paid even further for making the serious parenting error of talking to Mikey about 9-11 back when the 10 year anniversary was commemorated.   Remember—he acts 30 sometimes…I forget…What he took away from the history lesson was not the sadness of the event, or the loss, or that there are people capable of carrying out such plans—it was the awesome-ness of a plane crashing into a sky-scraper.  I know I have blogged about this before, but I never cease to feel like a total jackass, when I tell anyone.  Now, unfortunately, Michael appears to be a better mentor/teacher than a student.  Greg walked into the kids’ TV room the other day and Pierce was building block towers and using a little airplane crashing into them.  Once again, my work is finished here…as well it should be.