WW III

Earlier today, my niece Celeste grabbed a handful of Rain's hair. She shook her like a maraca. Rain punched her in retaliation.

Later, my generally sweet nephew (seriously, two weeks ago, we joked how peaceful-Gandhi-ish this kid is) took one look at Rain (who was standing on our ottoman) an knocked her right off. She went flying and hit her head on the bottom of our sofa.

Rain is no saint, either. She has a sixth sense for knowing a child's MVT (Most Valuable Toy) and can find no greater joy than hijacking one as she runs around the room like, "You want it? You want it? COME GET IT!"

There are weak moments throughout my day where I imagine calling my sister-in-law and saying, "Our happy Switzerland has broken out into World War 3--can you please ask the doctors to release you? Feel free to bring your back brace."

Seriously.

My poor sister-in-law is currently doing physical therapy (a good sign, actually) in a place where she is the youngest patient. She has broken her back in two places and has a hairline fracture in her pelvis. Her standard attire is PJs and a back brace, so she is itching to come home (the fact that she has a crabby suite mate factors in as well). She actually wants to come home to our war-ravaged Switzerland.

The truth is, her kids miss her, and it's affecting the oldest (the 3-year-old boy) in a negative way. The youngest one has slipped into a blissful ignorance about her mother's sudden displacement, but the oldest ... well, he's decided to make us all pay a hefty price until his mother returns. He's just plain mad. It shows up all the time about everything. He wants to have an argument about every detail of his routine. This morning he had a fit about whether he wanted juice with his breakfast or not. C'mon!

He's become obsessive with answering the phone, getting his way, and saying "No!" just to get a reaction. But just when I think I'm going to explode, he falls back into his ultra-sweet personality. He's the kid with the dinosaur undies who trips and says comfortingly, "I'm OK!" He has a fantastic smile, and every day he greets me with, "GOOD MORNIN'"! He shakes the hands of the adults at church and says politely,"How ya doin'?"

And for cryin' out loud, he's the only kid in this house who can use the toilet!

The other day, after a long visit, he started to leave his mom's room. Then suddenly he ran back. He had tears in his eyes and just stared at his mom lying in bed. He stood there crying quietly. His mom pulled the tough cookie act ("I love you, too, and it's going to be OK. Don't cry, don't cry ..."). He pulled the tough little guy act and finally left the room.

They both cried again afterwards. So, we all soldier on ....