I love my partner with all my heart but he has one weakness that I just can't understand.
He will observe things that the NPR does and take mental notes. He will then wait until the two of us are alone and she is nowhere near so he can launch into a super lecture.
It will usually begin with the words, "there's gonna be some changes around here."
He will then outline all the things my daughter has done that irritate him and rail on about how he is going to stop buying so and so or just do her chores himself.
He makes fair points and I agree with most of what he's saying but I have been worn down from constantly absorbing the criticisms meant for someone else.
I have asked him over and over again to speak directly to her but he says, "she's too old for me to parent."
"So treat her like a flatmate who isn't doing their fair share," I say.
"No because then she will look at me with her big eyes and start crying," he said.
Another time he said it was because she scared him.
I don't understand this at all. If she turns sideways you might mistake her for a line. She doesn't shout or slam doors or have dark brooding periods.
She does sometimes get careless with her chores and need to be reminded to do them, but I've never known a kid who didn't.
A few days ago he decided to list his latest complaints against her but he made the mistake of doing so while we were in the house and she was in her room.
"I'm going to bring her out so you can say this to her face," I said.
He looked panicked and seized the blanket we leave on the couch for chilly nights.
"Where does this go?" he asked as I disappeared down the hallway.
"Nick has something he would like to say to you," I told the NPR.
By that point Nick and gone into our room and was still fussing over the blanket and asking in a fevered pitch, "where does it gooooo?"
The NPR had followed behind me with her head down, waiting for a firm talking to but Nick's awkward behavior made her look up in hope.
He broke out in a sheepish grin when he saw us standing in the doorway.
His eyes darted around the room looking for a quick exit but we were blocking it.
He crab scuttled along the wall and squeezed past me without making eye contact.
I had to give him the "use your words" pep talk a little later on.
A few nights on he got all worked up about something in the kitchen and started audibly grumbling from his office desk.
In this instance the NPR could hear him but he was still able to hide safely behind his computer monitor.
I have decided that we will have future discussions in a family meeting at the dinner table. I'm hoping with some practice Nick will work up to making eye contact and addressing his grievances directly to the responsible party.
In the meantime, I hear this song in my head:
"When danger reared its ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled,
Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about and gallantly he chickened out,"
He will observe things that the NPR does and take mental notes. He will then wait until the two of us are alone and she is nowhere near so he can launch into a super lecture.
It will usually begin with the words, "there's gonna be some changes around here."
He will then outline all the things my daughter has done that irritate him and rail on about how he is going to stop buying so and so or just do her chores himself.
He makes fair points and I agree with most of what he's saying but I have been worn down from constantly absorbing the criticisms meant for someone else.
I have asked him over and over again to speak directly to her but he says, "she's too old for me to parent."
"So treat her like a flatmate who isn't doing their fair share," I say.
"No because then she will look at me with her big eyes and start crying," he said.
Another time he said it was because she scared him.
I don't understand this at all. If she turns sideways you might mistake her for a line. She doesn't shout or slam doors or have dark brooding periods.
She does sometimes get careless with her chores and need to be reminded to do them, but I've never known a kid who didn't.
A few days ago he decided to list his latest complaints against her but he made the mistake of doing so while we were in the house and she was in her room.
"I'm going to bring her out so you can say this to her face," I said.
He looked panicked and seized the blanket we leave on the couch for chilly nights.
"Where does this go?" he asked as I disappeared down the hallway.
"Nick has something he would like to say to you," I told the NPR.
By that point Nick and gone into our room and was still fussing over the blanket and asking in a fevered pitch, "where does it gooooo?"
The NPR had followed behind me with her head down, waiting for a firm talking to but Nick's awkward behavior made her look up in hope.
He broke out in a sheepish grin when he saw us standing in the doorway.
His eyes darted around the room looking for a quick exit but we were blocking it.
He crab scuttled along the wall and squeezed past me without making eye contact.
I had to give him the "use your words" pep talk a little later on.
A few nights on he got all worked up about something in the kitchen and started audibly grumbling from his office desk.
In this instance the NPR could hear him but he was still able to hide safely behind his computer monitor.
I have decided that we will have future discussions in a family meeting at the dinner table. I'm hoping with some practice Nick will work up to making eye contact and addressing his grievances directly to the responsible party.
In the meantime, I hear this song in my head:
"When danger reared its ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled,
Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about and gallantly he chickened out,"
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