About the former:
Joey and I fight.
Shocking revelation, I know.
Joe and I are best friends and usually get along very well. But once in a while, humans being what they are, something will set us off.
It's rare. But it does happen. And when it happens - whoa Nelly!
We don't have an official fight rulebook, per see. We just try to keep it as civil as possible.
~ No fighting in front of the kids.
~ No name calling.
~ No kicking, scratching, biting . . .
~ No trash talk - "Yo' Mama!"
Joe and I love to laugh. This has, quite unintentionally, given us a successful formula for fighting.
Somewhere in the middle of the "you always", "you never", or the "well let me tell you a thing or two", one of us will quip. Make some off-the-cuff remark.
This is a sign that the first party, or 'quipper', has said their piece, and he/she is ready to forgive, forget, and move on. If the second party agrees, a return quip is issued, the fight is over and all is well.
Anyhoo, there comes a time when closing the bedroom door just isn't enough. The kids aren't stupid. They can see a mile away the tell-tale signs of "Let's get ready to rumble!"
So, not long ago, I had a little chat with the girls. I realize I have no official degree in psychology, but I think I did OK.
When the girls first asked if mommy and daddy were fighting, I honestly replied, "Yes. But don't worry. I won't divorce you're daddy - it's too expensive. And I won't kill him - it's too messy."
Our oldest got it. She just gave a little smirk and went on her merry little way.
The youngest, however, did not seem comforted or amused by my answer.
We sat and cuddled a while on the couch and I asked her,
"Do you and sissy fight sometimes?"
"Do you feel like yelling and screaming at her?"
"Do you say things when you're mad that you don't really mean?"
"Do you still love sissy?"
She looked up at me and smiled. No more worries.
About the latter:
Buddy has gas.
I mean toxic-burn your eyes-clear a room in 3 seconds flat kind of gas!
This is a dog who's own stink will wake him from a deep sleep.
This is a dog who will sniff the air after doing the deed and give us a "Did I do that?" kind of look.
This is a dog who, on more than one occasion, pooted so loudly that he jumped up, swung around, and proceeded to growl at his own butt.
A genius he's not.
So, Joey and I were in the middle of one of our little tiffs. Neither one of us was ready to joke. Neither one of us was ready to concede our 'right' to be mad.
In comes Buddy to lighten the mood.
I dare you to keep a straight face and hold on to your anger when a dog plops himself right between you and your adversary and sets off a bomb.
Joey and I looked at each other, eyes watering, through the low hanging fumes.
That was it. Fight over.
Before you worry, all is well in the land of Smith!
Arguments end in laughter. And if we lose our way, well,
there's always Sir Stinks-a-lot to ease the tension.