Fuse Box

It’s very rare my two meltdown at the same time, but when they do it is spectacular. Years ago they went for the absolute meltdown. It went on for hours. Four to five hours.

I tried everything. Distraction, cajoling, humour, anger, surprise. Nothing at all worked. I called the emergency social worker. Furniture had been thrown around. Things broken. Bedding was strewn around their bedrooms and down the stairs. Chairs were over. The tv remote had been smashed following being used as a missile. Some pictures lay on the floor, smashed, others hung lopsided.

Eventually, just before midnight, I calmly walk past the debris, through the screaming, to the downstairs toilet, to where the fuse box is, and flicked the switch.

Plunging the house into darkness.

I kept saying to them that they were safe, that I was in charge, but that it all had to stop, the lights would not go on until they were quiet.

The screaming stopped.

The fighting paused.

I put the lights on. They tidied up. We all went to bed.

(That’s the fuse box incident in a nutshell!!).

FuseBox (1)

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