Temper, temper . . .

So: Cassie's kids were over because they were spending the night and we were celebrating Nicademus' birthday. We'd picked them up after leaving the IC choir Christmas party on Dec. 18th, as Cassie lived within a few blocks of there. (I also don't remember if I've told you that I'm playing at the rock mass once a month.) Emma didn't want to come, but Cassie told her she had to.

She and Nicademus started going at each other right away, annoying one another. We separated them, but Emma refused to do as she was told. We really didn't want to put her to bed for the night because, well, if we did she'd very frequently be in bed for the night not very long after getting here. Besides, we hadn't celebrated Nic's birthday yet. I felt my frustration level with her creeping up, went into the bedroom and took a short timeout. Emma did finally calm down and take her timeout, and we had cake and ice cream and Nicademus opened his presents from us.

By now things were going pretty well, and my guard was down. One of the kids asked for something to drink, and there were literally no options besides water. I found myself really annoyed by this; my wife had been home all day and knew the kids were coming over; surely she could have made sure there were some drink options in the house for them? On the other hand, I also knew it was perfectly reasonable to just have them drink some water.

I thought that I would go ahead and mix up a pitcher of lemonade really quickly. But the pitcher wasn't empty: it just had been sitting in the fridge for entirely too long with something in it that we weren't willing to drink ourselves anymore, let alone give to our grandchildren. So I grabbed the pitcher and walked over to the sink with it, but the sink was so full of dirty dishes that there was no way to wash it. Again, this was despite my wife having been home all day. In her defense, she may have been working on Christmas gifts. But there I was standing in the kitchen trying to make a drink for the grandchildren, which I thought my wife should have already taken care of, staring at a sink full of dirty dishes which I thought my wife should have already taken care of. And I wasn't very far removed from my frustration with my penultimate granddaughter, who walked in just as I was setting the pitcher down in angry resignation that I wasn't going to be able to mix up a drink for them, to express her displeasure that "Geez, you guys don't have anything for us to drink?! I don't want water! Gahhhhd!"

While I'd been sympathetic enough to my grandchildren's wish for a tasty beverage to try to do something about it, I just. knew. that one of them was going to come in with that whiny, privileged tone of voice in response to the completely reasonable suggestion that they make due with a small drink of water before bed. And of course it was the one with whom I'd been frustrated already.

In that moment, I actually thought I was going to be able to break the cabinet door with my fist.

I wasn't.

My wife and I were both very careful afterward to make sure that our granddaughter understood that she wasn't responsible for my bad decision. I wasn't interested in creating the dynamic in her life for which I would've been responsible if I'd blamed her for my own volatile reaction.