Saturday and the weather is beautiful. We all go for a walk on the Salt Marsh Trail. In amongst the trees, the sun beats down on us, exiting the trees and walking through what used to be a salt water harbour, the wind cools and picks mischievously at your headgear. At least a dozen people were out in the shallows digging in the muck for fresh clams.
By the time I was out to start the BBQ for supper, it had started raining. It rained hard. One of the cheeseburgers dropped onto the deck. In the rain, my jaw clenches and my teeth grind together. The remaining burgers are saved, cooked and brought inside. Only the tray of grilled vegetables remains. In the process of trying to get the dangerous-hot tray from the BBQ to the kitchen door, the tray of grilled vegetables tips and the whole lot is spilled to the ground.
I lost it. An angry, impulsive kick sends the nearby deck chair up and over the deck railing where it smashes into the lilac bush below. I clench my fists in frustration and wisely but belatedly remove myself from the family setting, going inside and upstairs to calm down. It was a less than admirable display of self-control. In about ten minutes I'm okay to come downstairs and have my supper like a civilized person.
Come the Boy's bedtime, all is well. Recalling the maxim that "It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a bad example", I set out to apologize to the Boy and let him know that Daddy acted badly.
Me: Daddy lost his temper today. Did you see that?
Boy: Your temper?
Me: Yes. I lost my temper. That means I got angry. Daddy's sorry about that.
Boy: That's okay.
Me: Thank you, sweetheart.
Boy: Did you find your temper?
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