Burying the Baby

. . . in the backyard.

We've lived in Resaca ever since Colt was a baby. I made Donny fence in the yard when we first moved here so the boys could play and they would be safe in the backyard. When Colt was around two or so he was always following Scout around everywhere. The novelty of having a little brother had long ago worn thin and Scout grew tired of having Colt dog his every step.

Donny and I were in the house one sunny day taking a break and watching TV when Scout sashayed in the livingroom with a smug little smile on his face. He plopped down on the couch with us, grinning like a possum. We were talking when Scout proudly announced that he had buried Colt in the backyard.  That conjured up some unpleasant images. He told us he had "planted" Colt in the hole the old clothes line had just recently been removed from. We rushed to the bedroom window to see what was going on. Colt was buried up to his knees and was crying and begging Scout to come get him out.

Scout just laughed like any boy would do. I turned around to rush out there and save my baby. Donny and Scout followed along behind me.

Colt was buried in the fresh dirt from the hole, packed in well by my other son, the demon child. Like an idiot, I rushed up and didn't realize that Colt was truely stuck. I grabbed him around his chest and tried to pick him up out of the tightly packed earth. He yelled in pain. He said that his back was hurt and started to cry even harder. I thought, "Way to go, Mom. Just kill him next time." Boy, What a dummy.

Donny told me to leave him alone. He would get the baby out. He had to use a shovel and dig carefully until the dirt was loose enough to remove the rest by hand. We got Colt out of the hole and I asked him why he let Scout bury him. He said, "Because Scout wanted to." Well, duh!  At a statement like that I fastidiously replied, "And, what did WE learn by that experience?", which became an oft repeated phrase around here whenever somebody did something particularly stupid. His brother had conned him into standing still while he immobilized him. Then he had deserted him. I hope Colt learned not to be so trusting. Who knows?

Despite the pranks that Scout played on Colt, you couldn't meet any more loving brothers. Colt has always been generous, to a fault. Scout is Colt's big brother and best friend. Scout looks out for Colt and sometimes tells me not to be so hard on him. They stand up for each other. They have a very good relationship. I am proud of them both. They are both good boys.

I wrote this a long time ago but everything is still true today. Scout and Colt never got mad or fought with each other when they were kids. They always got along. I guess they figured they had enough trouble with me that they didn't need any more trouble. I was always "watching them".

I always made it a point to tell them how lucky they were to have a brother and they would always have someone who loved them and understood them for the rest of their lives. I wanted them to be close to each other. I never had any siblings so I was always jealous of the brother-sister relationships. My family is divided and nobody can get along with each other. I blame that on the way they were all raised. They were taught to be jealous of each other and weren't all treated equally. It caused a lifetime of hurt and angry feelings. I was determined not to raise my boys that way. I would much rather they gang up against me than fight with each other. Fortunately, for them, I made it easy.

AS ALWAYS PIO