I don't get it

They were fine all through church, 'happy' even.  No Sunday school today meant they had to come home with Mom, stopping off at the dollar store on the way to each get new flip flops for the summer. 

Came home, had a bite to eat, changed clothes & diapers, down to the living room and on went the TV, waiting for the wind to stop blowing and the sun to come out.  Meanwhile, Elia falls fast asleep, flat on her face on the coffee table (she can sleep anywhere!), Lars is playing Cars and Eden is in a world of make believe.  

The 3rd child can sleep anywhere, I've determined

Then it happens, I make myself a tuna sandwich, grab my novel and a bottle of water.  I sit on the couch upstairs.  So far, so good.  One tennis shoe comes off.  The dog starts barking outside.  The other tennis shoe comes off and I kid you not, WWIII breaks out downstairs between the siblings.  Was it because I took my shoes off?  Is it the novel I so badly want to crack open?  The sandwich? Or was it because I tried to sit down for a few minutes of solace?  What, exactly, causes them to know just when to scream and cry and hit and bit and fight?  I don't get it.  

So, they've been banned to the outdoors until further notice.  And you know what?  After a serious 5 minute screaming event between the two with some gnashing of teeth thrown into the mix, they are playing perfectly fine, in a world of childhood adventures known only to them and all to their-selves. 

Surely, I never engaged in such activity as a youngster??