"What are you doing in here?"
THUMP. CRASH. SCREAM.
Compassion is not our strong suit.
Tonight my husband injected a little more excitement into the nightly routine by installing a bunk bed in one of the boys' rooms. The set-up process was only supposed to require three brain cells, but turned out taking three hours, three bad words, and three Advil.
The individual assigned to sleep in the top bunk of the new bed was shocked and thrilled. As soon as the announcement was made public, the individual's two similarly-aged siblings pulled out their poison dart guns. The duo spent the next several minutes listing every reason why their brother was undeserving of the honor. When trash talking failed to generate the desired results, the sore losers made it personal.
"I always knew you hated me!" one screamed in my direction and stomped out of the room.
"I'm going to go outside and sleep on the driveway!" yelled the other on her way out.
My husband and I watched the pair lug their pillows and blankets out the front door.
"Good night!" we called after them.
Less than thirty seconds later, both had a change of heart. One decided that not being the first person to sleep on the top bunk wasn't the end of the world. The other still believed that he was being unfairly persecuted, but also did not want to be eaten by a hyena.