Outing it inspired by inside out moments

My daughter continues to impress me with her forthright and impassioned behaviour and outlook.

After a day of problems for her at school and negotiating spiteful behaviour from a girl at her childminders, she was all spent on energy and emotion.

It’s not easy at the end of a working day to try and give clear and insightful advice to a child who has had a tough day. I absorbed her frustrations on the walk home and by the time we had returned, her mind seemed clearer. Contentment returned with a spell playing mine craft. Baby boy was munching apple and watching Miffy the rabbit, the dogs were fed, the washing machine was whirring and all was peaceful. I even spared a few moments to flick through the better ware catalogue.

Then hubby returned after ‘a bad day’ at work full of ‘cock ups’. I heard him out and gave some light advice, then he asked my daughter how her day was. She said it wasn’t good and didn’t want to talk about it. He did and ‘put his foot down aka inside out’ by taking her mine craft away so he could get her full attention. At which point, after having been content after a chat with me, she flew upstairs in a rage to her bedroom.

I rolled my eyes and briefly thought (like the Mum in inside out) about the other options I had before I married hubby.

He then proceeded to have words with her and she then had words with him. This equalled raised voices. Although it hurt her to rake over it again, she wanted to talk it over with him.

I said to her in mild frustration that she could have just stuck with chatting it over with me and there was no need to mention in to Daddy as well (thinking that in some cases daddy just makes matters worse).

To which her reply was ‘I wanted to tell him – he’s also my parent – not just you’.

I was impressed that she had the balls to put me back in my place. I was assuming I had handled it better than Daddy but clearly not – there was more emotional ground to be raked over and I had copped out for an easy life. Perceiving no need for Daddy to put his size 12 oar in. 

I stand corrected.

This blog is for UNICEF.

Thanks for reading. 


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