“Ugly mug “
“Poo poo Troll Face”
I’d been ignoring the rising volume on the back seat while navigating tricky motorway traffic, but it really wasn’t getting better. Time for parenting.
“Don’t call your brother Fatso”
“He called me Troll Face”
“Don’t call your brother Troll Face”
“Trolls are beautiful creatures. What have you got against trolls??”
“That’s not what he meant. Muuuuum. And why is he…”
Not winning really. I turned the music up extremely loud, drove them home in enforced silence and sat them down to write essays.
One was titled: “Calling my brother an Ugly Mug: What did I expect would happen? What did happen. How did he feel? How did you feel?” . It was returned saying “I expected him to stop namecalling. He called me a troll. We are now both angry”.
The other one was titled: “Calling my brother Idiot: What did I expect would happen? What did happen. How did he feel? How did you feel?”. It was returned with two A4 sides of grievances about sibling alliances and lack of appreciation for efforts made for other people.
Wish me luck sorting that out.