Tasmanian Devil

Monday afternoon, I found myself in the car impersonating the Tasmanian Devil.  I kid you not.  My head was spinning and my voice registered something between an evil hiss and a shriek.  My words (not one of my prouder moments)... "Just stop talking.  Stop now. Stop. Now. I don't want to hear...stop...now."  I think it was actually more shriek than hiss. It  looks kind of innocent in print,  I should probably type it in bold with a million exclamation points, but that annoys me.  So, just trust me; It was a parenting low. 

The incident that triggered this exemplary parenting behavior was an argument between my two sons over who had the right to eat a bag of Teddy Grahams.  The nine-year-old said he didn't want them (a birthday party favor).  I offered them to his older brother.  This triggered an immediate change of heart on the part of the nine-year-old, who claimed imminent domain over the Teddy Grahams and insisted  that he (as the original owner of the cookies) had the authority to exercise his legal right to consume them despite the fact that just moments earlier he had clearly said that he was not interested in eating them. Ever.

Tears were flowing in the back seat.  Eyes were rolling in the front seat.  My head was spinning in the driver's seat.  The exorcism (and the shriek-hissing) began.  I had a revelation: sometimes a small exorcism is a good thing.  My children were so shocked and appalled by my behavior that they stopped.  Everything.  They clammed up and stared at me in disbelief.  Perhaps they were petrified that my head really was going to finally explode (I've been threatening that for years).  I'm not sure exactly what I said, but it was some combination of guilt-inducing rhetoric and reprimand that silenced everyone.