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Sari and I had a rub one morning a while back.

We were running late on our mission to get out of the door for school so I was trying to move her along. I told her to get a hat on (because she already had her coat and shoes on). Then when she walked past me in the kitchen on the way to get her hat in the front room on the way out the door, I stopped her to help make sure her backpack was ready.

She was huffing and puffing during the backpack survey. We noticed her water bottle wasn’t in there so I got one and started filling it with water and I noticed she was just standing there. So I snapped at her to go get her hat.

I think the jerking back and forth frustrates Sari. I also probably unreasonably expect Sari to be able to multi-task and think like I do. This was our conversation on the ride to school. Sari was expressing that she doesn’t know what I’m thinking and can’t figure out what I want her to do if I’m not nice and slow and kind about it.

Realizing the error of my ways, I apologized for jerking her back and forth between things and expecting her to think like I do. Whenever I move out the door too quickly and try to drive Sari to leave in short order, it short circuits her composure.

So whenever we’re short on time, I try to drive her out the door slowly and methodically without adding in more than one thing at a time. This is frustrating for me because we could move out the door so much faster and efficiently if she just did all the things I told her to do at once, but that’s unreasonable for a 7-year old. So the frustration is my problem, not my daughter’s. I need to keep my frustration to myself and not pass that off on my daughter.

I walked into the backyard after having been inside for a while. I saw the water hose lying on the ground, which isn’t unusual for us because we leave it out fairly often.

Macie.

In that moment I was both angry and frustrated. That costs money. We don’t have a well… we are on city water. Every 1,000 gallons costs us money. Who knows how much money we just let loose from the water hose. Correct that: what MACIE let loose from the water hose!

I wanted to go right away to Macie and tell her what she had done wrong, but I caught myself:

Did I want to correct Macie in anger and frustration, or gently teach and instruct a 5-year old about the wise use of water?

After all, she is 5 and she doesn’t know any better. So I took a deep breath, wrote off the monetary expense of this experience, and asked Macie to come outside.

• When she did, I asked her if she had left the water running.
• She said, “Yes,” with a little smile.
• I asked her why she left it on.
• She said because she wasn’t done with it.
• I countered by saying, but we were inside for a while.
• She replied that she forgot she was going to use it again.

A very concrete and logical conversation, right? Exactly the kind of logic one might expect from a 5-year old.

I then dropped the bomb:

“Macie, did you know that water costs money?”

The look on her face was priceless (not quite worth the next month’s water bill, but priceless nonetheless):

“It does?!”
Macie asked, incredulously.

“Yep,” I said. “And if we leave it running when we’re not using it we’re kind of wasting it.”

“Oh,” she said, “I didn’t know. Where does the water come from?”

Then I talked with her about pipes and water towers and meters. She was enthralled. Now every time we drive around Hayward, Macie points out the water towers and can answer this question correctly:

Although she still doesn’t understand why we would drink or use water that comes from dirt!

I’m so glad that I chose to engage my daughter in a calm and informative way instead of yelling at her for leaving the hose running. There are countless times when I choose to yell and lecture and punish rather than helping my two girls to understand things in a calm and sensitive manner. Doing it this way is so much better. Why do I still do the yelling thing?!

I was tickling my youngest daughter, Macie, on the couch. Boy was she giggling! She was loving it just like both of my girls do. For some reason, for them, tickling is REALLY fun. Not for me, but they love it!

Sari heard the laughter and wanted to get in on the fun. She climbed over the arm of the couch on to the back because she was going to climb on to my shoulders (also something the girls love).

Instantly, Macie went from hilarious laughter to uncontrolled sobbing. I was frustrated. Here I was, having fun with Macie and Sari ruins it by stepping on her face. Now Sari didn’t mean to step on her sister’s face. It was an accident, but I was so frustrated that I yelled at Sari. I shouldn’t have, but I thought someone should get in trouble for this. Sari ran crying to her room and my wife gave me the look. She took Macie and consoled her for a second and then went into the girls’ room.

There’s nothing quite like being an authoritative, yelling parent and sitting by yourself.

I’m so prideful that way. I knew I should go apologize to sari and try to reconcile with her regarding what I had obviously done wrong. But I’m so stubborn. I sat there and tried to justify my actions to an unseen, invisible audience. It WAS Sari’s fault after all. She ruined the happiness, not me. But none of that mattered. I had turned an accident into something much bigger than it needed to be.

My wife, Amanda, was trying to console and reason with Sari, but Sari was having none of it. She was screaming and yelling that she didn’t mean to and Daddy yelled at her for no reason (oh there was a reason… it just wasn’t the right thing to do or the correct way to handle it). I knew I was the only one who could calm Sari down. I knew I had to swallow my pride and go make things right with Sari. Oh how I loathe these humiliating moments.

I went in and excused Amanda and told her I would fix it. Amanda could see in my face my remorse so she left with Macie. Sari was still hysterical, even more so when she saw me enter the room. My actions can really affect this young heart: both for good and for ill! I crawled into her bed and motioned for her to crawl into my lap. It took a minute… broken trust takes a bit to heal. She eventually cocooned into my arms and that melted my heart.

I said:

“Sari, I’m so sorry I yelled at you. Daddy was frustrated that you hurt Macie, but I know it was an accident. I’m so sorry I yelled. Will you forgive me?”

Through the heavy breathing that was slowing down, and in a cracked voice, Sari said:

“I forgive you, Dad.”

Those words melted my heart even more. I gave her a big squeeze, and she returned it. Then we left the room reconciled.