The Path Less Taken

After yesterday, a common refrain has been “be sure to give your kids an extra hug.” Well, I’ve been giving mine an extra yell.

The first one was directed at the lass last night. We were getting ready for dinner and I needed someone to get some milk from our small fridge in the basement. So I called both kids over and told them to play a game of Rock, Scissors, Paper. The boy won (paper covers rock, if you’re curious) so I turned to the lass and told her to go downstairs and get the milk.

Well, the boy and the Wife were amused as they realized the little ruse I’d pulled. It’s always an argument about who goes downstairs to retrieve the milk or vegetables. I tried to end-run that whole thing and I thought I’d done a decent job of it.

The lass, however, was not amused. Not. In. The. Slightest. She immediately started whining, all the way downstairs. She came back upstairs and she was all but openly weeping and crying.

It was so egregious and, given yesterday’s events, I simply could not abide it. I called her out, telling her she was being ridiculous, that her behavior was way over the top and she’d better knock it off. I almost threatened her with the ol’ “I’ll give you something to cry about” but I refrained. At that point, she didn’t know about the massacre in Newtown, and I didn’t want to say anything specific. But I finished with something to the effect, “There are people out there with much bigger problems than yours right now.”

By the time I was done, she was also basically done. She huffed a bit, but the over acting had ceased. I cooled off while eating my dinner.

The second event happened this morning and involved both of them. They were getting ready for hockey, and the lass once again started in with dickering and whining about not being able to find socks or having problems with her tape, or whatever as she prepared for practice.

The Wife had given them a heads up almost an hour ahead of time, yet here we were, at the last minute and still not ready. And what’s worse, the attitude was starting to flow.

Once again, I let her have it. I finished with a promise that she’d be done with hockey if I had to go through this again. The boy asked if the same went for him and I wheeled on him and told him notice had been served. The antics over hockey and getting prepared for practice were done, or their participation in hockey would be done. Period.

I try to exercise patience as often as possible. My own thinking is repeatedly blowing my stack will simply desensitize them to it. But yesterday’s events put a certain perspective on things- thinking about those families in Newtown whose Christmas is ruined, likely for the rest of their lives. The stuff these guys are going through are trivial by comparison. I know I shouldn’t be taking that out on on them, especially since they’re not aware of what happened. But perspective is needed and, for the moment, I’m not of a mind to humor these sorts of antics.