Friday, February 04, 2011
People, as a general rule, don't lead with their failings. We don't highlight them. Most people, I would say, hide those failings behind stories of success, stories of well-behaved children and academic and vocational accomplishment; we give others only a peek beneath the veneer upon close acquaintance.
Today I lost my temper. Hank delivered the final blow to a constitution that was already compromised due to two solid days of ill-behavior on the kids part. I gave Hank a chance. Go to your room. Now. It was an offer of escape. Temporary, yes, but doing so would have saved him forever, in this case, from me unleashing my anger in a torrent of ugly words.
He did not immediately go. He stood there, belligerently, and, ultimately, he stomped up to his room in dramatic fashion, meant to convey my wrongness and his rightness.
This should be an unspeakable event. I was wrong. I acted badly. He is eight, and I am not.
I forgave myself easily; this post is not wallowing. It is, for lack of a better explanation, reality. A moment all experience yet no one blogs about.