Last night, after we’d gotten the kids to bed, Mom and Buried and I sat down to talk.
It was the end of a long day and we had things to discuss. Adult things. We were in the middle of it when suddenly – it’s always suddenly – Detective Munch ran out of his bedroom to ask some innocuous question, for probably the 100th time that day.
And I lost my temper.
My response was completely disproportionate to whatever his supposed offense was – curiosity? hunger? I honestly don’t remember what he wanted – and I herded him back to his room.
He was bewildered and upset; he didn’t know why I’d yelled.
I calmed down and tried to explain. The damage had been done, but I needed to make let him know it wasn’t his fault.
I explained that I was tired, and also a little annoyed that he was still awake. I said Mommy and I needed time to talk, about non-fun things that he’s not interested in. He said he didn’t know that, because of course he didn’t!
How could he? Why…
This is only a snippet of a Parents Article written by Dad and Buried
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