Early evening yesterday, after looking at a fallen tree in the yard and a deflated basketball, I snapped at my daughter. A loud snap, from the stomach and lungs.
Crap.
I was having such a good day, perfect marks for the peaceful dad – and then BOOM! This happens. There goes my A.
But I’ve been working on this up and down thing so I was ready.
It’s just a snap, I thought. One snap, a fragment of mood that deserves a space among the thousands of other fragments. Though it’s a part of me, it doesn’t define me, nor does it define my relationship with my daughter.
Here’s the best part: I get to stand back and let it pass through, a lumbering wasp amongst the butterflies.
And on with the evening.