What it was I don't recall, I have been tuning it out more and more.
Lately, unless there's blood I don't really intervene unless it turns REALLY ugly.
Anyway, I heard Carl call Charlie "Beaver teeth" in a super agitated but almost quiet way.
Perhaps I'm a bit sensitive to that particular name since I was once a beaver toothed little girl (with a sharp middle part that pointed right to it...)
I was so angry with Carl I stopped and asked, "What did you call him?"
He did look ashamed as he repeated his insult.
When I demanded that he go up to his room his brother instantly came to his defense.
"What?" Charlie asked. "It's true." He said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
Oh precious little guy.
He doesn't seem to care that his teeth are quite prominent at the moment.
So prominent that the dentist carefully phrased suggesting that we invest in mouth-guards for when he plays sports because those teeth are really "out there." He said. He thought we should be proactive in protecting them.
Thank God Charlie doesn't care.
And of course we'll get them all fixed up when the time is right.
Beaver teeth.
It hurt my heart but not my strong boy.
I didn't make Carl go to his room because his brother gave him a reprieve. And because he looked genuinely sorry.
Brothers sometimes the meanest, sometimes the sweetest.
*and yes I have a few more posts to come when I have a few uninterrupted minutes:)
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