I admit that sometimes, at the end of the day, my kids don't know what to do with their own energy. So, in a gesture of kindness, they share that energy with others by resting their hands oh so carefully upon their sisters' heads, legs, arms, etc.
And, by carefully, I mean not carefully.
And, by resting, I mean smacking.
When they get to the point where they simply cannot resist full throttle running toward someone, doing a body slam into their legs, and then smacking, there is a new consequence to their action.
Worry not, dear friends. I do not allow them to run across the room and attempt to leap over their brother (who, frankly, isn't much smaller than the two youngest girls).
Nope, this is good, old-fashioned, elementary school gym class calisthenics.
Always the homeschooler, I one up myself and make them count aloud as they do a hundred in the living room. Tonight's Fonda-ettes were PJ and the littler mouthy one. It went something like this:
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten...
eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, seventeen, eighteen, twenty
twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty eight, thirty
thirty one, thirty two, thirty three, thirty eiiiiiight...
Clearly, we need to work more with these two.
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