There are times when I have to wonder how my father can be such an idiot. It seems as though he tries his hardest to be the worst kind of parent ever, then he wonders why people get enraged and hateful toward him.
The Kid came back from his father with a laser pointer, something I didn’t like the idea of and disapproved of, but it was something that he had. It was his.
My brother lectured the Kid, my father lectured the Kid, really drawn out and hysterical yammerings about people being blinded by laser pointers and dogs losing their minds and all kinds of drama. And after weeks and weeks of listening to the constant lectures, somewhere in there the laser pointer disappeared and was — for a time — forgotten.
Until today. When the Kid went on a desperate search for it. And unable to find it, he asked my dad if he’d seen it. And my dad admitted that he’d found it in the living room and taken it away. He wasn’t going to give it back because it was too dangerous and the Kid wasn’t responsible enough and… and… and…
By the end of it, I spent the next two hours calming the Kid down and getting equilibrium back in the house, while my dad played on his computer and took a nap. And after it was all done, the Kid had finally let things go and was willing to move on. Things were okay.
By the time 6 pm rolled around, the Kid and I were watching a movie and he was talking to me again. He’d come to accept the fact that the laser pointer was taken away and he wasn’t getting it back. Things were done.
So of course my father had to come out of his computer room with the laser pointer and start talking about “I’m gonna give this back to you on the understanding that you’re going to…” blahdy blahdy blahdy. And I had to step in and say No, don’t give it back. Because I was already tired of the lecturing and the yelling and the general misery of it all.
I didn’t want the Kid to have the laser pointer in the first place. It disappeared and I was relieved. The Kid was angry at me for agreeing with my dad about him not having it, but he’d started to get over it. The decision had been made, he’s a good kid, it was over and done with.
So of course my father had to blow the whole situation up. Because that’s what he does. Whenever things are smoothed over and quiet, he steps in and releases a bomb into the room just because, then retreats back to safety where he doesn’t have to deal with the anger and the tears and the resentment.
And now I’m the bad guy. Again.
