News from the kids is always easier to handle when it goes through the human filtering device known as mom
Earlier this week, my wife called me. She asked me if I'd received a call from our middle child. I had not had the pleasure.
That was all Karen said and that was all the hint I needed to know that there was something goin' on that nobody wanted Dad to know about.
"Nothing. It's nothing." She said.
That was hint No. 2.
"No, what is it?"
"It's nothing."
"What's going on, really?"
She repeatedly sidestepped my questions as I continued to try to find out what it was that was wrong with our daughter. Had she had a wreck? Told her mother she was going to run off and get married? Had she lost her job? Become a dancer? An actress? Taken a job in the oilfield???
Bunches of scenarios ran through my mind, obviously the worst kinda stuff a dad can imagine.
I finally wore Karen down to a nub and she was forced to spill all she knew.
"SHE CALLED AND HER CAR WON'T START AND WE DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH IT, ALL RIGHT!!!"
I paused for a moment.
"Oh, Is THAT all?"
There is a case to be made for always thinking the worst first. It can often soften the blow when the real news is dished out.
"Oh, well it's probably a dead battery, maybe an alternator. It's fine. We'll get it fixed."
Karen looked at me with a touch of incredulity in her eyes. Incredulity is not something you normally want to GET in your eyes necessarily but sometimes the winds kick up and there's no stopping it.
"What is WRONG with you?"
"It's just a little deal. No big deal. We'll get it fixed. We'll just get 'er done, y'know?"
But in fact Karen did not know because I had never reacted like this to news of a dying automobile. I have over the years tended to, shall we say, freak totally out over news that costs pretty much any amount of money. And when you pick up the phone and you're the dad and the handler of money -- the operations director, the CFO of the family -- any news that will cost money that you don't wanna spend is not usually met with a Woo-Hoo! And I have, let's just say, made that fairly well known during my years as a dad. To the point, I guess, that finally the children really began to dread calling me and telling me anything unless it was good. And so they have finally discovered there's a way around the agony of dealing with dad.
Nowadays (and here's the payoff for all those years of yelling and whining), anything less than pay raises or A's on a report cards or being pulled over because they're a courteous driver, now goes through a buffer: Karen, my sweet, special other half, has become my human filter.
I have apparently over-reacted to bad news and news that was gonna cost me money for so many years that no longer do my grown children choose to come to me first. And it is now safer for me -- and them -- to pick up the phone and call their mama.
Just as I had planned all along. I'm just sorry it took so long for them to figure it all out.
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