My boys have a rather strange obsession. Actually, they have two obsessions, both related to hotel occupancy. The first is the desire, no… the need, to push elevator buttons. The second is to use the room key to open the door to our room. Both were on fine display while we spent the week in Knoxville, TN for the Destination Imagination Global Finals.
They will fight to a rather ridiculous degree over who gets to do what and try to rush past each other to beat the other to the button. Hal has even been known to burst into tears because his brother pushed the button. Pushing it after it is already lit up is not satisfactory. They each have to be the one that actuates the button.
My husband came up with a rather nifty compromise. On the first day, he declared one the button pusher and the other the door opener. He explained that they would alternate each day.
This worked for… oh, I don’t know… approximately half a day. And then Hal couldn’t stand to let his brother push the button in the elevator. He rushed in and pushed the button, apparently deciding that asking for forgiveness was better than permission. As such, he was told that he would be performing neither activity for the rest of the day. He was devastated, his brother quiet.
The fights baffled us. I mean, it’s just a button. The fights began to spill out to the crosswalks as well. Sometimes we didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. And then one day, we found ourselves alone in the elevator.
My mom and her boyfriend had taken the boys to the zoo. After eating lunch with them, we returned to the hotel for some much needed down time. We walked into the elevator and then both stood there silently. Eventually, he asked if I was going to push the button. I startled and glanced at the panel, surprised that the button wasn’t already pushed.
I laughed at the stark difference the lack of children made. Who was there to push the buttons?!