I picked a fight this morning, because Katie was undercutting me with the oldest boy.
Katie was still in bed, nursing the youngest boy; Dev and I were in the master bathroom. He wants to know how to read and write, but he’s not so interested in actually doing the learning. He knows his letters and can sound out words when he applies himself, so I suggested getting a favorite book and copying out the words verbatim. Dev wasn’t really listening (a trait he gets from his mother), and so the expression of my idea became less of a sentence and more of a comic conversation.
Throughout all this, Katie kept interrupting. It bothered her whenever I stated or implied that Dev can’t read or write yet, so she struck sneaky blows in his defense by interjecting veiled corrections of what I was saying. You know how they do. I appreciate that she doesn’t want him to feel bad, and she is completely welcome to use her feminine sneak attacks on his behalf against other females. But not against me or any of my sons.
About the fourth time she corrected me, it made me angry enough to realize what was going on. She was still laying on her side, facing away from us, and I had just sat down against her legs. I brought my hand down hard on her hip, not a smack, but as if I were steadying something on a storm-tossed ship. Firmly holding her hip, I said, “Do. Not. Do. That. Stop criticizing and correcting what I say.”
“That’s not what–I only wanted–I was trying to add to the discussion.”
“What you did instead was subtract from it.” I paused a moment, then said, “Dev, think about a short book you like. Maybe one of the library books. What would it look like if you were copying the words from it?” Dev looked thoughtful, then scampered off to the living room.
Katie waited until he was gone, then said in a shaky voice, “I truly was not doing what you said. I was just trying to be part of the conversation and–”
I cut her off: “No. You are rewriting your personal history now.” Walked away.
Katie closed the bedroom door at some point after that, but I’m not really sure when, so I know she didn’t slam it. That was the first good sign. The ambulatory children and I had a few of our usual adventures and disputes over the next half hour, and then Katie came out quietly. I can’t see the bedroom from the kitchen, but I could hear her walking softly over. When I turned around, she looked at me seriously and made the Want a Kiss body language. I took a step closer, but made her go up on tiptoes to kiss me.
After the kiss, she met my eyes and in a soft, but determined voice said, “You were right, and I was wrong.”
I leaned back and studied her face for a moment. Then I gave her another kiss and said, “You’re pretty.”
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