My nine-year-old daughter sighed and stared out the car window at the glow of the street lamps. I could hear the annoyance in her voice.
“I don’t want to talk about it”
Ugh… roadblock. And it had been such a tame conversation.
She told me about how the class had to write a lot that night. Writing during dance class? Totally weird to me. So, I asked her,
“What did you have to write during dance class?”
Bam Total shut down. She clammed up. I had asked one too many questions.
“Ok. That’s fine.” I clenched my jaw. I asked one simple question. Why did she have to treat me like this?
Then, she turned me and said, “I’m sorry.” Not a heartfelt, “I’m sorry.” Rather, the apology dripped with guilt and fear that she had deeply offended me and didn’t want me to be mad at her.