This is what my sweet youngest brother would say, at six years old, when our little sister would start her reign of terror by smacking him, taking away his toys, just being a big meanie for no reason. The sad part is that she was probably only about four at the time. He was older, and bigger, but he didn’t want to hurt her by getting even. So he would calmly sit there saying “it’s happening…its happening again” while she unleashed. I think my mom finally resorted to telling him to just hit her. Hit her back. Hit her hard. But I don’t think he really ever did. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Too sweet.
Today is a sort of “it’s happening again” kind of day. There’s no hitting involved, but I’m sitting on the couch in my PJ’s looking for every excuse to not scrape up the oatmeal off the counter. I’ve returned emails, checked every blog, poured a second cup of coffee…I’m running out of excuses. Josie has been running around with no pants on refusing to get dressed because why should she? Momma’s not getting dressed. Makes sense.
I will get moving, eventually. There’s guilt, in the form of a sink full of dirty dishes, coming up to smack me in the face. I know I should hit back, but I don’t have the energy. I’d much rather just sit. Just a little while longer. “It’s happening again.”
*It’s important to note that my brother and sister are now on good terms. They are both college graduates, married and raising their own children. So I guess things turned out alright, in the end.
