snow falling on willows
Saturday morning, 11th March 2006.
Outside, there's snow falling on the willows, laurel, currant shrubs and all the other stuff in the yard that's yearning for a little sun. No cedars in these climes, needless to say. Inside, I'm reeling from another run-in with my darling daughter. Not much this time: just too much music early morning. Due to drive the 'taxi' at 7.30 sharp, I was nursing a mug of hot tea at 7 a.m, which is not bad for a snowy Saturday in March but, no surprise, the passenger only emerged from her bed at 07.55 hours. She would take a train later... Imagine what would have happened if I had suggested that ;-)
Muttering warnings about needing to leave on time and drive slowly in the snow, I turned my attention to the harp. Now I know she prefers me not to play it while she's around but, after all, she should have been on the train by then. A simple melody - not even a few scales - and Rosalind began to fume. I did not stop instantly and she got worse, threatening not to go at all. :-) No skin off my nose, I thought, but I did not go on as I knew she would spiral out of control. The code is this: the behaviour is unacceptable, but we'll address that later, when all is calm, NOT now.
Sometimes it's hard to contain yourself in a situation like that; after all, no way is she going to dictate what we do. However, in the long run, giving her space now and talking about it later is the wiser option. Costs fewer broken plates, broken nerves and hurt feelings causing her to sink into a dark morass from which she cannot accept a helping hand. Calm again, she knows she was out of order and accepts the lines we set out.
Now the train has left and she is on her way to Amsterdam and the Amnesty International Film Festival, where she's a volunteer to help make things run smoothly. No mean task for someone in her situation, but the hardest part of all may have been catching that train on time.
More later on; for now, where's that harp?
Outside, there's snow falling on the willows, laurel, currant shrubs and all the other stuff in the yard that's yearning for a little sun. No cedars in these climes, needless to say. Inside, I'm reeling from another run-in with my darling daughter. Not much this time: just too much music early morning. Due to drive the 'taxi' at 7.30 sharp, I was nursing a mug of hot tea at 7 a.m, which is not bad for a snowy Saturday in March but, no surprise, the passenger only emerged from her bed at 07.55 hours. She would take a train later... Imagine what would have happened if I had suggested that ;-)
Muttering warnings about needing to leave on time and drive slowly in the snow, I turned my attention to the harp. Now I know she prefers me not to play it while she's around but, after all, she should have been on the train by then. A simple melody - not even a few scales - and Rosalind began to fume. I did not stop instantly and she got worse, threatening not to go at all. :-) No skin off my nose, I thought, but I did not go on as I knew she would spiral out of control. The code is this: the behaviour is unacceptable, but we'll address that later, when all is calm, NOT now.
Sometimes it's hard to contain yourself in a situation like that; after all, no way is she going to dictate what we do. However, in the long run, giving her space now and talking about it later is the wiser option. Costs fewer broken plates, broken nerves and hurt feelings causing her to sink into a dark morass from which she cannot accept a helping hand. Calm again, she knows she was out of order and accepts the lines we set out.
Now the train has left and she is on her way to Amsterdam and the Amnesty International Film Festival, where she's a volunteer to help make things run smoothly. No mean task for someone in her situation, but the hardest part of all may have been catching that train on time.
More later on; for now, where's that harp?
posted by oyster lassie at 11:09 PM
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