My son and I had a good day despite the Bears loss. We played, we ran around, we soaked in sunshine. Then toward sunset,as I packed him into the car to head home and get ready for the week, my son became angry. His protests started with crying which evolved to shrieking. When I did not react to this, he started kicking the back of my seat (he knows that I do not like this, so I struggled to avoid a response). Finally, as I was driving fifty miles-per-hour along four lane divided road, a blunt projectile clipped me in the right ear. In the name of my son, my daughter and my own will to live, I kept the car on the road. The rest of the car-ride was filled with the most silent shrieking you've ever heard. Yes, silent shrieking. The only way I can describe it.
When I arrived at home, I delivered my children to my wife and went to the front porch to read and center my chi. After much wailing and grinding of teeth, my beloved three and three quarters year old first-born son came outside to apologize. He approached me, kissed my nose and said "Sorry". I embraced him and said, "Sorry for what?" He said, "sorry for hitting you while driving". I clarified, "you should never hit anyone with a cup, whether driving or not. It's not nice." "Daddy," he said, "you keep saying I hit you with a cup. But I hit you with a cup-holder. You misspoke."
He went back inside. I resumed reading.
When I arrived at home, I delivered my children to my wife and went to the front porch to read and center my chi. After much wailing and grinding of teeth, my beloved three and three quarters year old first-born son came outside to apologize. He approached me, kissed my nose and said "Sorry". I embraced him and said, "Sorry for what?" He said, "sorry for hitting you while driving". I clarified, "you should never hit anyone with a cup, whether driving or not. It's not nice." "Daddy," he said, "you keep saying I hit you with a cup. But I hit you with a cup-holder. You misspoke."
He went back inside. I resumed reading.