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Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Judgement . . . Seat

Me and my Partner in Crime/ Future Best Friend
I was sitting in a Sunday School class yesterday.
The group was studying a particular scripture.
It concerned what happens when we all die.
The teacher explained that, when we die, all of us will be taken back to that God who made us.
I was with him that far.
Then he explained that everyone will wait there until the final judgement.
The righteous in a state of peace and calm.
The wicked in a state of anxiety knowing that the final judgement won't be pretty.
It was an interesting class.
It reminded me of something.
Because I have an active imagination.
And because I can't pay attention to anything for more than two minutes.
Unless there are moving pictures and/or shiny things . . .
My next older brother, George, and I used to squabble.
A lot.
It was his fault.
I can say that because this is my blog.
Okay, yes, it's connected to his blog, but I'm going to worry about that later.
Moving on . . .
I don't think we could exist in the same room for more than a few seconds before a fight would break out.
She's touching me!
He's taking my toys!
She's playing stupid games!
He says I'm playing stupid games!
HE/SHE'S BREATHING MY AIR!!!
You know the drill.
My mother tried all sorts of remedies.
Chores.
Confiscation of treats.
Loss of privileges.
The only thing that worked was 'time out'.
George and I spent many, many minutes thus engaged.
Or rather dis-engaged.
For first offences, such as minor disagreements over toys, she started out small.
“You two go and sit on a chair!”
This punishment was usually informal.
Consisting of a few moments spent sitting at opposite ends of the table.
If the crime was a bit more serious, ie. name-calling, time was added.
“You two sit there until the timer on the stove goes off!”
Rats.
Then there were the major offences.
Where things had gotten a little . . . physical.
Hair pulling and/or pinching and/or scratching.
“Both of you sit there on that piano bench until your father gets home!”
Oh, man.
Not only did we lose playing privileges.
But we had to sit in very close proximity to the person who had landed us in this predicament.
Sigh.
Did you know that, sometimes, older brother have cooties?
Well, they do.
Just FYI.
So there we sat.
Back to the discussion in Sunday School.
And I don't mean to be disrespectful.
But I think I know precisely what the teacher was trying to tell us.
My brother and I sat on that piano bench for what was probably only a matter of minutes.
But which seemed like hours to a four-year-old.
In a confined space.
Unable to leave.
Waiting for the punishment of a just father.
Yep. I know.

12 comments:

  1. Up until I was in 6th grade, my father traveled for work, and was gone Monday-Friday. When my brother and I would fight, my mom would say "I will be discussing this with your father when he gets home" - which sometimes was 5 days away. She never forgot either. Those were some of the longest weeks of my life!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I can imagine! I only had to wait a matter of minutes and that was excruciating!

      Delete
  2. My father was used in the same way. Poor guy!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ha Ha! I remember the day I divided the breakfast table with large cereal boxes to stop all the "mum! He's/she's looking at me!" And the day I sent them all to different corners of the back yard and marked out their areas with the hose. Then there was the summer when I said "well, squirt him with the hose" and a huge fun water fight ensued with everyone laughing in the end. Some of the neighbour kids got involved in that one and I got wet too.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Genius! I remember blocking out my brother with a wall of cereal boxes! Love the water hose solution. And the ... erm ... water solution . . .

      Delete
  4. I remember Dad coming home and Mom talking to him. The next thing I knew, I was in Dad's court, the precursor of the punishment would be the sound of leather sliding rapidly through belt loops. Yes, I found out that leather wasn't just for shoes or holding your pants up. Sometimes that's the only way to make an obstinate kid see the light.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I missed out on that memory. Of course I got the cake spoon a few times. No one could make that thing sting like Mom could. I'm almost sure she could swing it faster than the speed of light . . .

      Delete
  5. I remember the "You just wait until your father gets home"! I think my brother spent half of his life waiting for dad to get home.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Isn't it strange how some siblings just can't get along when they're growing up? And often become good friends as adults.

    I used to take things into my own hands. When my older brother drove me just a little too far around the bend (he was a terrible tease, which he now admits!), I would finally snap, and strike back by pushing him or throwing something. Luckily I was weak and my aim was really bad :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. My aim too. Probably a good thing.
      That brother is definitely my best friend now. Best.

      Delete

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