One Way to Get Attention ...

“What’s wrong with Dad today?” asked one of our adult children.

I had been so busy with my own work, I wasn’t aware that anything might be wrong with Husband, so I dutifully hurried to the kitchen in search of him.

Just as I heard, he sat at the kitchen table: arms folded across his chest, scowl on his face, and his lower lip literally protruding at least one inch.

Not to be unkind, but my insides flipped over at the sight of him pouting there. I mean some moments are gaggers and this was one that did not set well with me.

Without much sympathy, I asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m mad,” he said sternly.

Now, obviously he was mad. I didn’t need an interpreter for his body language.

I turned to the adult who had summoned me. “In answer to your question, he’s mad.”

This was not the first time in our many years together that I had seen Husband pouty because he had not gotten his way, and I ceased to be drawn into his emotion by it. I turned away toward my office and work. I did not have time for his pity party.

Husband called after me, “We received word today that we are to move offices back to the west side of town.”

“And that makes you mad? Why?” I literally put on my brakes when he spoke.

“Some assholes decided we had too much going for us as a group, and they are going to break us up into different sections.”

Ahh, I realized he thought this decision was made to annoy him personally, but work waited for me at my desk. There was no time to pursue the conversation.

When I returned nearly two hours later, Husband still sat in the same position while staring at the floor.

Another of my adult children said, “I think Dad is mad.” This in turn made her angry, and she stormed from the room.

“Great. Now I have two of them,” I thought. I considered talking with Husband at greater length about his anger. Did I really want to get into this?

“Did you eat?” I asked him.

“Not hungry,” he snapped, so I fixed a sandwich for myself.

“This is not fair. We have a great productive team, and it was too much for upper echelon to handle.”

“Do you really think that was the reason for this decision?”

He turned his anger toward me. “Of course,” he yelled. “They were out to break us up, and now I have to go back to the west side.”

“The drive is closer,” I offered as I ignored his tone.

“Not much,” he growled, and I noticed he had not changed his body position at all during the conversation.

Just then our third adult child came into the kitchen and asked, “What’s wrong with Dad?”

By then, the entire incident was absurd. “He’s mad because he has to move offices to the west side of town in a few week, and he totally resists that decision.”

“Oh, Daddy,” she laughed “ You are so funny. I was afraid you had lost your job.”

“And the only reason any of you would care has to do with the money I would not bring in to feed and clothe you all.”  I realized this was going to turn into an attack on us.

I insisted he straighten the kinks from his legs and go with me for a walk. Experience had taught me we were in for a long dry spell while he worked through this disappointment.