A Teachable Moment

So sparing the silly details, Wifey and I had quite a spat yesterday. And she apologized, correctly, for her behavior in front of a visitor to our house. And I accepted her apology.

But therein arose a teachable moment. I asked Wifey what she wished my response to her apology ought to be. And she said "Well -- I hope you would accept it, and we would move on."

And I asked her -- what if I did NOT accept the apology? What if I said her apology wasn't sincere? What if I said that I had thought about it, and her behavior was SO abhorrent -- an apology wasn't enough -- she had to pay in some other way?

Well, she understood, that would cause months of grief and misery.

Bingo! A teachable moment.

The point is, we ALL screw up. And people who communicate a LOT with each other do it the most -- the sheer amount of words shared by definition mean that some will be offensive and hurtful.

But he have to accept apologies and move on, lest months pass of awful tensosity.

I know I will keep this lesson inside. I hope Wifey does as well -- the "Your apology wasn't heartfelt. Your tears were faked" does nothing but cause months of misery.

The day got better. We left to fetch the happy toddler at his preschool. They have good security -- you have to show the child's special number to be given the child. 

A Black grandpa, about my age, asked for his granddaughter. The staffer, a tough young woman I had met before, asked for the number. He didn't have it, but protested he was "authorized." The staffer said she was sure he was -- but no number, no child. "Oh --so you just keep her here overnight??? That makes ZERO sense."

I tried to intervene, in my charming way. "Hey -- just call your son or daughter and get the number." He replied that his daughter was a nurse manager at a major local hospital, in a meeting, and not to be disturbed. I nodded and wished him luck. Privately, I nearly peed myself, since my dear friend is an exec at the very same hospital, and I know well how most of the meetings are total bullshit -- a participant can well be called in order to get info allowing a grandparent to retrieve a grandchild.

We went back to D1 and Joey's house, and Wifey played with the baby. I took the older guy out front -- a construction crew was digging up the streets, in order to install new sewers. He watched, fascinated, at the steam shovels and excavators, peppering me with questions.

On the way home, he picked 3 yellow flowers, "to give to mommy." Yeah -- like I'll ever be able to refuse any requests this boy makes of me.

There was more play, and eventually Joey came home. The definition of pure joy is when my grandson sees his Dad. And vice versa, too. There were baths, and dinner, and the baby got a bottle of D1's milk comfortably reclined on Grandpa Dev's ample belly. And then D1 came home from HER work meeting, and we watched their nightly ritual -- playing like bear cubs on the bed -- but with added safety precautions lest there be another broken foot.

Wifey and I left, and drove to Mr. Mandolin, for some good Greek dinner. We missed the happy hour, but I still treated myself to a Sky vodka.

On the drive home, I spoke to a dear friend's son and his girlfriend about a car crash recently -- thankfully the young lady isn't hurt badly, but more importantly secretly vetted the young lady -- my friends haven't met her yet. I got very good energy, as my Cali friend Vince often says.

We picked up a prescription for Wifey, I filled her SUV with gas, and we drove home through quite a storm.

I went upstairs and slept well -- I was called to duty this am by Rabbi Yossi for a minyan. They need 10 men for the prayers to work, apparently. I don't believe in that hocus pocus, but figure it can't hurt helping a friend who does believe, and with all of his being.

And as usually happens when I attend, I learn something, from one of the other participants.

Teachable moments are everywhere.