Different Times

When I was growing up, there was a natural hierarchy at our house. Kim, who was four years older, left no doubt about who was boss. On the few occasions I dared to question her authority, I barely lived to tell about it.

Not so in our house. The dictator around here is 3 feet shorter and a good 40 pounds lighter than his oldest sister. But he scares her to death. Just this morning, we needed her to watch him for just a couple of minutes while we finished something.

All I could hear was screaming from the other room. Isaac was charging at Dylan, who had tried to influence his lovely mood by singing "If You're Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands". He wasn't happy, and he did know it, and he was ready to clap his hands around her head. She was running away, screaming, and actually hid behind me, yelling, "Save me, Mama!"

"Save us all", is all I could think.