I had another test today, and again I failed. This time I was not as unconscious as normal insofar as I was conscious of the fact that I was failing miserably. Yet my pride (ego) would not yield, not even to an apology after it was done spouting off. It'd rather believe that perhaps the episode will be forgotten by my son (today, twenty years), and if not, well, it wasn't that bad; he'll get over it.
In analyzing Mr. Ego's behavior, I find the trigger of interest. And the shortness of the fuse. As long as my boy's behaving well toward his younger sister, all's well (and this is the case probably 95% of the time). But if she ends up in tears and he's the selfish conniving little culprit behind them, the fuse is lit. I have and show little tolerance for such bad behavior. He is seven, after all; he should have better control of his own ego than I in my forties do.
So a second opportunity for teaching was lost. In stead of helping him to relate better with his sister, I engaged in my own childish tirade. I say "second" because he was witness to my first tantrum yesterday. And that even involved the other party speaking of calling the police.
Wow, what an impression I've made on him in just 24 hours time. His father is out of control.