Butthead isn’t completely off the table either, believe it or not

Brothers and sisters love to mess with each other.  This is a fact and I have no intention of trying to dispute that fact.  On the contrary, I’m going to add a little more fuel to the fire with the following testimonial.

Sassy has found the one thing that makes The Bandit crazy and she’s using the hell out if it.  Turns out calling the boy a “nutball” is just too much for him to bear. 

He honestly and truly finds the name offensive, and he made a really good case for her to stop using it.  He argued like a six year old lawyer so I intervened.  I usually don’t simply because I believe the kids need to work some stuff out for themselves.   Besides, I’ve started charging 1$ for the opportunity to tattle. I plan to buy a Mercedes next week on my profits.

But as for my parenting theory, my brother and I fought like cats and dogs and we turned out to be good friends. My kids will be fine.

So in the car on the way to camp, Sassy called him a nutball again and the little man threw a conniption fit back in the third row.

“Sassy,” I said, “he’s asked you nicely a bunch of time not to call him that.”

“I know,” she admitted. “It just slipped out.  What’s the big deal anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I told her.  “For whatever reason, that name really bothers him. Please don’t use it anymore.”

“What should I call him then?” she asked.

I thought about this.  I didn’t really have an answer for her, but there was always the name I call him.  I made this name up one night when The Bandit and I were giggling in his bed one night.  While nutball makes him blow a gasket he seems to have no problem whatsoever with Twerp Muffin.  I don’t get it either but, from what I’ve learned, six year olds rarely operate under a mantle of rationality.

So Twerp Muffin it is.  Everyone is happy.  Only contented noises come from the third row seat.

The smells however – that’s for another post.