Anger, misdirected

by: Anthony Demangone

I was sure he was going to like it.

Whenever I go on a business trip, I try to bring Kate and Briggs back a gift that ties into the area. For Briggs, I had picked out a beautiful burnt-orange Texas Longhorns t-shirt. He always liked getting shirts from sports teams.

But Briggs said he hated it. And he seemed to hate just about everything else about me after I returned from my trip. Let’s just say it was anything but a warm welcome.

Being the parent of five-year-olds, I’m used to the roller-coaster of emotions. But something about him hating the shirt gnawed at me.

I was hurt.

Later that evening, after I finished reading him a story, he quietly asked me a question in a sad voice.

Briggs: Daddy, when is your next work trip?
Tardily-enlightened me: Not for a while, Briggs. You don’t like my work trips, do you?
Briggs: No, I wish you never left again.
Heart-broken me: Is that why you were mad at me?
Briggs: Yeah.

So we had a good talk.

Briggs’ anger was justified, in a way. But it was misdirected.

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