Sibling Rivalry
My boys are all boy. And that means that I have to live, day in and day out, with the most outrageous levels of competitive spirit. The boys love each other, but each is determined to outdo the other, in everything. Most days, I can handle the competition with equanimity. But yesterday I lost my temper.
The boys had been pestering me all day to go for a walk. Which means that I walk around the block while they ride their bicycles or scooters. It’s great exercise and generally a relaxing time for me, and it’s fun for the kids.
Except yesterday. We were about five minutes into the walk when the boys were at each others’ throats. Son One had ridden his bike; Son Two chose his scooter. It’s neither rocket science nor mathematical genius that tells you that a 10-year-old on a bike is going to go much faster than an 8-year-old on a scooter. So the younger one was in tears because the older one kept passing him. And he was yelling and calling his brother names. When I tried to calm him, he started yelling at me. Well, that tore it.
I turned on my heel and said, “I’ve had enough. I’m going home.” And I turned around and walked back the way we’d come. Several long moments of stunned silence. Then frantic cries of “No, Mom! I’m sorry, Mom! Stop, Mom!” from both of them. The older one turned his bike around and pedaled furiously toward me. (I can hear it, but I can’t see it. I absolutely refuse to turn around.) He passes his brother and shouts “Why did you do that?!”
When I get to the corner that we’d just barely gotten round, I stopped and turned on them. They pulled up to me and I told them, in no uncertain terms, that this was supposed to be my walk, and it was supposed to be a good time for all of us. And that if they couldn’t deal, we’d all go home and I’d go for a walk by myself, later. (Okay, maybe not my best moment. But, as I said, I was furious.) I made it clear that if they wanted to accompany me on my walk, they’d better learn to do it peaceably. That I didn’t care if they biked, or scootered, or even just walked with me, but I wasn’t going to walk two miles with a couple of snarling cats. And I especially wasn’t going to walk with two boys screaming ugly things at each other for the whole neighbourhood to hear.
Then I really shocked them. (As if Mom just walking away from their fight in the middle of the street wasn’t shocking enough.) I told them it was up to them whether I continued walking home, or whether we turned and continued our walk. Utter stunned silence. Two jaws agape. They looked at each other. Looked at me. Looked at each other. Then, almost in unison, “Let’s walk on. We won’t fight anymore.”
The remaining mile and three-quarters was a perfectly peaceful, enjoyable time.
But the competitive spirit remains. I don’t want to squash it out of them. A man needs his competitive drive to function optimally in the world. I just want to teach them to channel their competitive spirit into constructive and useful endeavours — not into making their brother look bad.