Toddler

Dylan asked for crackers. I put four saltines in a small empty cream cheese container. He sat on the couch and ate them while he watched cartoons on TV. One cracker broke. Crumbs fell. How interesting, his face said. Suddenly he crushed the cracker in his hand and scattered the crumbs all over the couch and rug.

"Dylan! Stop that. You're making a mess. Don't do that, please!"

He shot me a devilish look and grin, reached his fingers into the cup, made a big show of crushing the two remaining crackers into pieces, and then swung the cup wildly about, scattering cracker pieces and crumbs around the room like birdseed.

Instant anger!

I didn't think. I slapped the fingers of his empty hand, the first time I had ever struck him. It shocked us both. His mouth dropped open, his eyes widened. He gulped. He stared at me. His eyes filled with tears. How could I have done that! I had thought I was way way beyond such an impulsive act. I'd better say something.

"I said no, Dylan. You can't do that. Say you're sorry."

Tears still running down his cheeks, he shook his head no, definitely, defiantly no.

"You have to apologize, Dylan. You can't make a mess and just throw your food around like that. Tell me you're sorry."

He shook his head no, no, no!

"Dylan, please, tell me you're sorry."

"No thank you, Grandpa," he said.