Nope, that’s not a typo. I will be the first to admit, my fat thumbs have been known to cause some crazy chaos in my texting, but that extra J is there for a reason. Here’s why . . .
My boys, they fight. A lot. And one of my biggest worries is that they will never learn to like each other, much less be friends with each other. Now, I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t actually know a whole lot about sibling relationships, seeing that I’m the only child of an only child. But seriously, the way my boys act can’t be normal. The amount of wrestling, yelling, and stomping that goes on at my house is unbelievable. It’s like WWE on steroids.
In a recent desperate moment, I knew I had to seek advice, so I did what a wise and respected Sunday school teacher, himself the father of two grown sons, told us to do in times of trouble– I turned to the Bible. And you wanna know what I found? Brother relationships that were way more dysfunctional than my boys’. I mean, let’s hope Jackson and Reeves never throw Big Boy Brooks Bryant into a pit, fake his death, and then sell him into slavery! I’m telling you, after reading about Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau, and Joseph and his brothers, I was feeling pretty good about my parenting skills.
But I still needed some sage practical advice, so I turned to the next, most logical fount of male sibling knowledge . . . the NFL. You laugh, but the NFL is full of siblings, from players like the Mannings to coaches like the Harbaughs. My personal favorite group of siblings is the Watts–JJ, Derek, and TJ. Three brothers who like to tackle and have mega-watt smiles–sounds familiar to me.
I follow JJ Watt on Instagram, a fact Reeves has deemed “inappropriate” on more than one occasion. One weekend when I was really in the weeds of parenting three rough and tumble boys, JJ was using the question box feature in Instastories to give his followers the chance to ask him questions. I submitted mine without hesitation: “How did your mom encourage you and your brothers to get along?” (I also wanted to ask how his mom afforded to feed the three of them when they were in high school, but ultimately, I decided I might not actually want the answer, since I’m guessing it may involve selling a kidney on the black market.)
Anyway, I was soon rewarded for my celebrity fangirling as JJ responded to my question with these words of wisdom, “She locked us out of the house until it was dark.”
Now, some of you are nodding along, thinking, “Yep, that’s exactly what my mom did.” Some of you also did not grow up in Columbia in August. I’m sure being locked outside in Pewaukee, Wisconsin, on a balmy, 78-degree August day was delightful for the Watt boys, but I have a hard time believing that locking a three year old outside when the forecast is literally “hotter than the surface of the sun” is the best answer to my problem.
And honestly, I’ve tried it, and it doesn’t work. I just end up with three pitiful boys pounding on the door and whining to come inside . . . which I just realized may at least unify them in some sort of weird prisoners versus the warden kind of way.
So, I’m bringing my problem to you, friends. Surely there’s a sibling success story out there somewhere. What worked in your house? How did your parents encourage you and your siblings get along? Help a mama out! I would love nothing more than to hear your advice, and if it works, I promise to to fill in blank of What Would _______ Do? with your name.
