The Beginning of the Story

Every weekday morning, after I have fed and dressed myself and my three kids, made sure teeth are brushed, clothes look moderately presentable, and school bags are packed, I leave the house at 8 am and begin the 12 minute drive to work. Most days this is the calmest 12 minutes of my day. Some days, I sit in the parking lot at work and stretch my 12 minutes to 15, or even 18 minutes, of tranquility. Meanwhile, at home, Alal is earning 2 dollars per day to supervise his brothers for 25 minutes and ensure that they get out the door and onto the school bus.

Tonight at dinner, Alal announced that he needed to report an incident from this morning. Our conversation went something like this.

Alal: I need to tell you about my brothers' behaviour this morning.

Me: Okay, what happened?

Alal: Well, Mlal took Plal's scooter and threw it in the bush, then Plal jumped on Mlal's back and started pulling chunks of his hair out.

Me (to Mlal and Plal): If you two can't behave yourselves in the morning, then one of you is going to have to go to the before school program at school, and it will be you Mlal, because you seem to be the one who starts these incidents.

Mlal (indignant): That's not fair, Alal didn't start at the beginning of the story.

Honestly, I couldn't even be bothered getting to the bottom of the incident because in my opinion, this story begins sometime back in late 2002 when, ten days late and after hours of back labour, Plal arrived.