slap fights

This past week won't be going on any Top Ten lists whenever I finally look back at my life and pick my favorite memories. My Saturday evening wine/chocolate/Hugh trifecta failed to deliver, much to my chagrin. Insult was added to injury when we ended up watching Michael Clayton instead and even George Clooney couldn't help. Now I'm the first to admit that they lit him very badly in this film but still. George and Hugh both? That's bad.


So on Sunday I shifted into Plan B - the fabulous bells and whistles bath. Lovely bath salts and oils, a moisturizing mask on my face, my favorite incense burning, a huge cup of tea - the works. This would relax me, damn it. I was going to insist on it. As the tub filled I took deep breaths and thought calming things. I was repeating my mantra - this too shall pass - when I heard a horrible thump from the living room. And again. I ran out of the bathroom, soothing carrot mask beginning to work its magic on my face, to see what the commotion was.


It didn't take long. As soon as I hit the dining room I took in the sight of Sasquatch and the Red Headed Step-Child rolling around on the floor, grunting and making inarticulate noises. The RHSC had a huge hunk of SQ's hair clutched in his hand and SQ was swinging blindly at the RHSC's head. Gumby and Surfer Dude were watching transfixed from the living room. This was a new one.


Channeling my inner mommy superhero, I grabbed them each by the collar and dragged them apart, shrieking at the top of my lungs the entire time. (I'm more used to dog fights and was wishing I had a water hose). Bear in mind that SQ is 6'1 and RHSC has a good three inches on him. No sooner did I start getting the story (a classic case of he said/she said) than SQ picked up a frickin' chair and swung it toward the RHSC's head. I deflected it with my arm (ouch) and proceeded to quietly go insane on him. Okay. Maybe not so quietly. The thumping I had heard was the two of them brawling on the stairs on the way down, knocking out spindles as they descended. I have a glass front door at the very bottom of the stairs. I was not amused.


I sent SQ to his room and drove the RHSC home. I wanted to call Laurie/Elly Mae on the way to give her a heads up on why I was bringing her son home in a battered state, but he was in the car so I couldn't. And even though we have a pact to treat each of these boys as if they are our very own, I somehow thought that looking like I had beaten him senseless was taking it a step too far.


I dropped him off and he ran upstairs in tears. I came home to find Sasquatch upstairs in tears. When I realized I still had the carrot mask on my face I wanted to hide upstairs in tears. And my bath water had gotten cold. Damn. The scent of soothing incense was in the air but I wasn't feeling the love at that point.


The reaction from people close to the boy brawlers was interesting. This was certainly a first. Our buddy Stacey, who knows them both far too well, said she imagined it would have been like a girlie-girl slap fight. (We might have taken this the wrong way, but we all knew that her son would have been the third girl in the ring). Paternal units were nonplussed. (And conveniently not home at the time).


But the exclamation point on the whole episode was provided by Gumby. As I walked back in the door from taking the RHSC home, Gumby stretched out on the sofa, grinned at me and said


Mom, you're a betting woman. If you hadn't pulled them apart who do you think would have won?


I took my bath later. Strike three.