My kids don’t listen. Not really.
They’re great kids and objectively perfect but still, their casual disregard for questions I ask or advice offered is incredibly frustrating. Particularly for someone who gave these human beings life. Often, it seems, that I cannot adequately capture their attention without raising my voice. I can say the same thing nicely 7 times and no one listens to me until I scream it the 8th.
Raising people is hard work indeed.
Tonight, while having dinner, I tried to talk to my son about his day and an upcoming project. He was impatient and impertinent and exasperated. It is entirely possible he inherited these traits from me but I am not a stranger in the customer service department trying to navigate him through a maddening situation. I am his mother. He should be kind. He should want to listen to me. He should want to hear what I have to…
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