The Gay Uncle received a note from a mommy-friend the other day in response to a recent-ish post on sibling rivalry. She told the story of her boys Adam (5) and Josh (8) who began the morning, prior to going to their summer day-camp, engaged with an “action figure”ť that the older boy had built out of fruit leather, fudgy cookie crĂ©me, and a stale chocolate-covered malted milk ball (which G.U. assumes was the head). While the boys were engaged in their “play”, the mom took this opportunity to enact what Gunc calls Sunscreen Torture: the ritual application of ultraviolet blockers, a favorite past-time of parents everywhere. [Note: imagine enacting this with 18 kids every morning before heading out to the urban sprinkler park and you have some idea of what the Gay Uncle’s job was like.]
With only five minutes remaining before the boys’ bus arrived and mom had to peel out to head to the office, the younger of the two boys (Cain?) became over-excited (G.U. wonders if it was the fault of the action figure’s ingredients, which could make a hyperactivity-inducing breakfast). In his rage–sugar-induced, or otherwise–he managed to mangle FruitLeatherCrĂ©meWhopperMan. This irritated his older brother, who was the genius behind the creation of this charming toy. “You are the stupidest brother in the world,” the 8 year-old screamed, “and I hate you forever!”ť This boy is apparently quite a sweet child, and doesn”t ordinarily talk this way to his sibling, and his reaction stunned and shocked little Adam, whose face froze for a moment as he absorbed the intent of this hateful comment. Then, in typical second-child fashion, he went full-on Naomi Campbell. “You fucking biiiitch!!!”ť he screamed, and he grabbed the first thing that came to hand and began beating his brother about the face and neck with it (fortunately, it was a stuffed animal, and not a mace). Then, once mother managed to pry them apart, he kicked off his shoes, removed his socks and shirt, and announced that he wasn”t going to camp. The babysitter was on vacation and mom had to get the boys on the bus (and come to work), and so she suggested that G.U. simply “imagine what the next 5 minutes looked like.”
The problem is, he isn’t at all sure . He could picture it involving duct tape, roller skates, and a long nylon rope, but that’s just where his mind always goes.