YESTERDAY I WAS ANGRY

It was such a simple thing that set me off. I was attempting to get my high school age son up for school and he wasn’t responding. I’d been trying in vain for half an hour. He had his head tucked under the quilt, protecting himself as best he could from my impending attack. He held onto the quilt with a steel-like grip when I tried to pull it off. My intention was to let some of the cold air of the day into his warm cocoon.

When I finally succeeded, he bounded out of bed, his anger suddenly matching, then exceeding, my own. My voice had risen an octave. His voice raised two. Then came a shoving match. He shoved me, I shoved him back.

The war had begun.

What this was all about was control. Me trying to control my son. Could it be, I wonder, that wars between nations are about control? Control of territory. Control of beliefs.

Could my little mini-war be used as a model? Or is it just a father trying to get his son off to school, not knowing how to do it properly?