Bad behavior
I've sent Spence and Sadie to their own rooms. They can't be trusted with the computer in a room together, obviously. They bicker and fight and send messages to each other. And to the blog, apparently.
I certainly can't enjoy watching the men in shorts if they are going to be upstairs fighting with each other.
The trouble isn't that they fight -- it's that they fight while I'm downstairs. And the minute I come up, they clam up. They scowl. They sulk. And if they talk at all, it's to me. not each other -- so I can't write it down. Not when it's pithy stuff like Spence saying, "It's all her fault!" And Sadie saying, "Not all my fault!" And him saying, "Is, too!" And her saying, "Is not!" And him saying . . .
Well, you get the idea.
It does not make for good dialogue. It makes me crazy. And then, as soon as I leave the room, they start in again with the real stuff, the nitty-gritty stuff, the stuff I need to get down in the book.
So I've had it. I've separated them. I've put them each in solitary confinement until tomorrow morning. And since there will be no men in shorts tomorrow morning (no men in shorts until Friday. Sigh.), we can spend the day with them behaving better. I hope.
How about Zidane's goal? Amazing or what? Probably not, really. All in a day's work for him, I suppose. But definitely fun to watch. And that nifty little blip of a dribble over the outstretched arm of the goalkeeper that Ze Roberto did when he scored for Brazil. What talent. And the Ghana team were great. I thought they played more like a team than Brazil did.
Teamwork, that's what we need. I hope Spence and Sadie are listening.
I certainly can't enjoy watching the men in shorts if they are going to be upstairs fighting with each other.
The trouble isn't that they fight -- it's that they fight while I'm downstairs. And the minute I come up, they clam up. They scowl. They sulk. And if they talk at all, it's to me. not each other -- so I can't write it down. Not when it's pithy stuff like Spence saying, "It's all her fault!" And Sadie saying, "Not all my fault!" And him saying, "Is, too!" And her saying, "Is not!" And him saying . . .
Well, you get the idea.
It does not make for good dialogue. It makes me crazy. And then, as soon as I leave the room, they start in again with the real stuff, the nitty-gritty stuff, the stuff I need to get down in the book.
So I've had it. I've separated them. I've put them each in solitary confinement until tomorrow morning. And since there will be no men in shorts tomorrow morning (no men in shorts until Friday. Sigh.), we can spend the day with them behaving better. I hope.
How about Zidane's goal? Amazing or what? Probably not, really. All in a day's work for him, I suppose. But definitely fun to watch. And that nifty little blip of a dribble over the outstretched arm of the goalkeeper that Ze Roberto did when he scored for Brazil. What talent. And the Ghana team were great. I thought they played more like a team than Brazil did.
Teamwork, that's what we need. I hope Spence and Sadie are listening.
posted by Anne McAllister at 10:10 PM
1 Comments:
At one time (about 10 years ago) my sister was living in a condo on Yonge Street in Toronto and after Italy won that game with the men in shorts, the fans were so excited that they broke windows on the 1 and 2 floors of her building. Luckily she lived on the 18 floor.
I sounds like you were dealing with a case of he said, she said.
I can't tell you to much about any of the new Desires yet, I'm only half way through Barbara Dunlop's Marriage Terms, the next Elliott book. Cool new covers though.
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