Summer Fight Club.

The Rules of Summer Fight Club:

  1. You do not talk about SUMMER FIGHT CLUB.
  2. You DO NOT showcase SUMMER FIGHT CLUB to your friends’ parents, the grocery store clerk, camp teachers, grandparents, runners passing your house, the car sitting next to you at a stoplight or anyone else you respect. Stretching out vowels in the form of whining is also considered “talking”.
  3. If your mother says “STOP” or if someone starts bleeding enough to require a blood transfusion, the fight is over. And I do mean gushing blood – google “Old Faithful.”
  4. Only two siblings to a fight. No pets or friends will be harmed in SUMMER FIGHT CLUB. Use who you have. Additional fighters will not be produced by your parents – no, really. Ask your mother. That factory has shut down.
  5. One fight at a time. Please, limit yourself to one fight an hour if you care about the sanity of your mother.
  6. No stabbings with sharpened pencils. No glitter thrown at eyes. No choking with scarves. No drownings. Use of any real weapons, such as a kitchen knife, will result in a lock down confinement for the rest of summer.
  7. Fights will go on as long as they have to. See rule 3.
  8. If this is your first time at SUMMER FIGHT CLUB, you have to fight. Congratulations! You passed this test 3 minutes and 47 seconds after the final school bell rang in May. That has to be come kind of record.


Can someone get your mother Brad Pitt? She’s going crazy.




2 thoughts on “Summer Fight Club.

  1. AY! Is it September yet? I don’t miss those lovely days. “She started it. Shut up! Stop looking at me! It’s MY turn. You smell! It’s MINE!” Calgon…..take Julie away!

    One summer my kids were fighting so much while I was driving them around town and when I stopped at the bank drive up window they continued to scream at each other, pinch one another, SPIT at each other and more! I calmly smiled at the teller and told her all was…fine. I began driving again and started whispering to them that they were going to a time out when we got home and that I would add 15 minutes if I heard them say another word. They did and I added and added and added many minutes to their time out. Finally they were silent on their way home. Once home, I sent them to their rooms and called Mr. B to tell him that there was going to be a murder soon. After half an hour they pleaded for me to let them play together because they wanted to have fun together. WHAT? Needless to say, Mr. B got me a gift certificate to a spa on his way home. 🙂


    1. Dude, the fighting is insane. I think it’s worse that I have two same-sex children.
      Ahhh, and can you please give Mr. B Scott’s number? I could use a spa trip.
      Well, take that back. He is taking me to the Keys next week. Sitting on a noodle in salt water with a beer is as good as any spa.
      Glad I’m not the only mom going to crazy.


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