Retaliation

Last night my family got home after me.  When my son came in, he thanked me for turning on the garage lights for them.  “I knew you’d be here, and you’re doing yoga.”

I’m not sure if it was the relaxation apparent on my face or that I was sitting in the middle of the living room rug that brought him to this conclusion, but he took a quick look at the television and revised his story.  “Oh, it’s hockey.  Olivia was right that it was on.” 

That’s my girl!

When George carried her inside the house, he also was surprised that Olivia was right.  She ran over to me, jumped in my lap, and deposited some silly-sounding kisses on my face before watching the Penguins leading the Red Wings by a goal.

“How was your day?”  I asked her.

“Good, but Gregory made me be bad at Grandma’s house,” she said heatedly.

I explained to my three year-old that you always have a choice in how you act.

“Olivia, sometimes hockey players pick on one another.  When that happens, that player needs to choose whether to hit back or whether to let it go.  If he lets it go, the team might get a power play.  Do you understand what you’re going to do next time Gregory picks on you?”

She looked up at me and said, “Hit him back.”

Sigh!  Maybe I should’ve explained that a penalty is a lot like a time out, except without the apology at the end.

I gave her a hard look. 

“Hit it out?” she tried again.

“Do you mean the puck?” I asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said.  “Hit the puck out.”

Close enough.