Craziness

Last night I had to referee a common sibling dispute over personal space encroachment. I warned that if the dispute persisted, I would turn off the TV. The dispute intensified and I made good on my threat. Then I asked Erika to tidy the room that was strewn with her snacking remnants, roller blades, socks, cups, etc. She was very frustrated with her sister, her punishment, and her job.

After tidying, she vented to me. 12-year-old venting is classic. She angrily said, “Dad, you are crazy.” I asked what part was craziness, the discipline or the cleanliness? I asked her to name a single parent that didn’t mind their kids fighting or such messes. She was stumped.

She didn’t answer my question but after some thought she offered, “You are crazy for believing that the fight was my fault. You think Natalie is perfect.”

Aha. I said, “I neither said nor believe that. I just said that if the fight continued, no more TV. That’s all. Maybe you’re crazy for thinking I’m crazy for feeling imagined things.”

She said, “So, you’re saying it was all Natalie’s fault?”