Why Are You Fighting?! You Don't Even Have A Kevin Bacon Poster!

I was there.  I have a brother less than a year older than me, and three other siblings too.  But I don't remember this.  The fighting.  The constant, infernal, senseless fighting!

Here's a quick list of the things that my three kids will come to blows over.  Like, hair-pulling, smacking face, UFC-style grappling blows:

1.  That Lego.  No, not that other goddamn Lego, the one that looks like this Lego,  THAT exact Lego.

2.  These inches of the sofa.  The ones with my toenails on it.  'No, I will not move the toenails, you are OVER THE PROPERTY LINE'.  I need a couch with carrels on it.  'Member those?  Like this, only for the couch:

Also, for the porch swing, the dinner table, the bathtub and my bed.  Anything that requires three small people to share space fairly.  I need one for my house, yard, playhouse, playground.  WORLD.  I need a portable carrel that I can literally slot all three children into and move them through life with an impermeable barrier that prevents constant real estate disputes.

Julie says this is my fault because I never want to share my coffee with her.

3.  Food snatching.  My son acts exactly like an ape at Lincoln Park Zoo when the lettuce is served.  He stuffs all his food down instantly and then starts a mad grab for the girls', curling it up to his chest and running away on two legs and one free arm.  I am sorry, but I hereby confess to routinely playing the old "You're so lucky you have all the food you need," card.  It's harsh, but I do it.

4.  Me.  They fight over me, constantly.  It is a strange situation to be in- people fighting over your body.  Aside from basically every third day in the Supreme Court, I am not used to people fighting over my body.  There is no amount of closeness to my body that will satisfy the spawn, and when its time to decide which of them gets to sit next to me at dinner, it's like straight to cage match.   I wish I felt that popular when I was single.  (Thought I would have insisted on mud-wrestling to settle those disputes.)

I am so scared, y'all.  Scared of when they actually have something worthy of fighting over.  Like, for example a friend.  Or a Kevin Bacon poster.  When my brother f'd with my Kevin Bacon poster, I kicked him so hard in the jewels, an ambulance had to come.

I think I better make sure we never get any Kevin Bacon posters.  You know, to preserve the bloodline.  And no New Kids On The Block either, just to be safe.

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