I knew it was too quiet for too long.
So. The kid's went outside to play. They did not call their mother to let her know first. Then they played by the medium-busy roadside.
When the kids didn't answer the phone for an hour, and weren't around at home when she arrived, their mother freaked out.
I know what this situation can be like, as one time my boys took a friend to show him their school. They should have returned in 40 minutes, but didn't. After they were an hour late, I drove around the neighbourhood looking for them. When I couldn't find them no matter how many streets I went down, and how many sides of the school I looked on, and no matter how many friends' houses I called, I panicked. So, at the 2 hour mark, as I'm on the phone calling the police, they walk around the corner, shirtless, tired, sunburnt.
What I tried to learn from this is to not panic. I don't quibble with my decision to call the police, but I do remind myself that the odds of something bad happening are small.
As much as I may have overreacted, my ex is the reigning queen of overreaction, and I'll never manage to out-do her on this.
Even allowing for the supposed differences in temperment between men and women (which are only have scientific backing in one personality aspect out of the big five aspects), she* really overreacts. Every punishment in the world should rain down upon their heads for this transgression. In addition to the grounding that they may indeed deserve for not following the rules of the house, there are more dramatic measures. The kids are never to be left alone in the house again, the pup is to be taken back to the store, and she will call in sick to work tomorrow. Even if we assume that her description of the situation is accurate (my interpretation of which is the first two paragraphs above, this seems a little excessive to me.
My lack of sympathy for all of these of course means that I'm persona non grata.
So. The kid's went outside to play. They did not call their mother to let her know first. Then they played by the medium-busy roadside.
When the kids didn't answer the phone for an hour, and weren't around at home when she arrived, their mother freaked out.
I know what this situation can be like, as one time my boys took a friend to show him their school. They should have returned in 40 minutes, but didn't. After they were an hour late, I drove around the neighbourhood looking for them. When I couldn't find them no matter how many streets I went down, and how many sides of the school I looked on, and no matter how many friends' houses I called, I panicked. So, at the 2 hour mark, as I'm on the phone calling the police, they walk around the corner, shirtless, tired, sunburnt.
What I tried to learn from this is to not panic. I don't quibble with my decision to call the police, but I do remind myself that the odds of something bad happening are small.
As much as I may have overreacted, my ex is the reigning queen of overreaction, and I'll never manage to out-do her on this.
Even allowing for the supposed differences in temperment between men and women (which are only have scientific backing in one personality aspect out of the big five aspects), she* really overreacts. Every punishment in the world should rain down upon their heads for this transgression. In addition to the grounding that they may indeed deserve for not following the rules of the house, there are more dramatic measures. The kids are never to be left alone in the house again, the pup is to be taken back to the store, and she will call in sick to work tomorrow. Even if we assume that her description of the situation is accurate (my interpretation of which is the first two paragraphs above, this seems a little excessive to me.
My lack of sympathy for all of these of course means that I'm persona non grata.
No comments:
Post a Comment