Hurricane Michael

Tyrant.  Bully.  Ickyhead.  Yep.  I got called all of them this morning.  Not all of them are false monikers mind you...but getting them all at once can be difficult. 

I have been strict with Michael since he was a baby.  He is now 9 and feels that he no longer needs parenting and has the right to speak to me in any fashion that he so chooses and at any volume.  However, I am of a different mindset.  I believe that he still needs to speak to me with respect, appropriateness and deference.  This does not mean that he has to agree with me, that he can't challenge my opinion or tell me that I am wrong.  He just has to do it appropriately. 

This morning, I offered Michael computer time after breakfast if he got all of his chores done and spoke to me and his sister kindly.  Chores...check.  Kindly...no check.

I am a man of my word.  WYSIWYG.  No never means yes.  He still hasn't learned the lesson.  Then the loss of the electronic playtime only served to make him angrier, more defiant.  It was like seeing a storm coming and having no place to go.  He told me that he thought I was afraid of him.  (Can you imagine such a thing??) 

After sulking in his room for a few minutes, I asked him if there was anything he wanted to talk about.  He marched into my room and I expected further thunderstorms.  He glared at me and then softened his face and said, "Big Dad...I am sorry for how I talked to you."  Big hug.  Kiss.  Storm blew out to sea.