Yesterday Eldest Child did something that pissed me off. Something that made the top of my head explode in anger. I told her I didn’t want to talk to her same day. Instead I ranted at Noah about all the terrible punishments I’d like to inflict. I said the names I wanted to call her to him when she wasn’t in the room. I didn’t feel nice for calling her names. I felt happy I only did it when she wasn’t in the room.

I didn’t address it with her till this morning. Then we had a chat. I cried a lot. I told her why she hurt my feelings. I told stories about why it relates to things that happened when I was a kid, and that’s why it bothers me so much.

She said, “I try sometimes but I really can’t imagine how awful your childhood must have been.”

I said, “I don’t really want you to try. That’s why I don’t tell you many stories.”

She hugged me and apologized. She will try not to make that kind of mistake in the future. She said she is sorry she isn’t the best daughter in the world.

I cried harder and said she is. She is the best daughter in the world. (I’m kinda glad my other kid is opting into being a son so I can say this and not feel like a douchenozzle.) I told her that the way she responds to making mistakes inspires me every single day and causes me to think about how I really want to be. Yes she is the best child. Because she makes me want to be better every single day so I can have a prayer of deserving a relationship with you.

She smiled and hugged me.

I didn’t inflict a lot of punishment for the fuck up. I was kinda an asshole for a day. Not a huge asshole, but an asshole.

I can live with that.

Notice how I’m not telling you what happened? It isn’t actually important. I’m better off forgetting.