Erasers

My dad has a short fuse. Fortunately, he has a big, broad heart and is a forgive-and-forget kind of guy. I was thinking of him yesterday as I was writing to a friend of mine. This friend is going through some tough stuff right now, is under a lot of stress, and is a little worried about inadvertently taking it out on her husband and kids. I told her she probably would. But I also told her what my dad told me in my early years of parenting: "Kids have big erasers."

We all make marks (good and bad) in other people's Book of Life. Some we intend, some we don't, and some we heartily regret. Luckily, everyone comes with an eraser. Call it what you will -- forgiveness, grace, mercy, charity, absolution -- my dad understood that kids seem to have it in spades. But he also knew you had to ask for it.

He knew this from experience.

No, the blowing of his top wasn't a regular occurrence, but when it happened, everyone in the house heard it. And just so we're all on the same page here, be assured, he was never physically or verbally abusive. But all four of us kids have had the opportunity to watch his face turn tomato-red, have witnessed the steam whistling from his ears. We all remember the moment my older sister was "grounded for life," and, though many details of my youth are blurry, I do recall the last time I got a firm swat on the hind-end. I was eight. I had been in a water-balloon fight with the neighbor kids. On Easter Sunday. In my good clothes.

Whatever the reason for the explosion, after the offender had retreated to their room in tears and my dad had a chance to cool his jets (which may have taken minutes or hours), he would always come knocking on the door to apologize. The nice thing was he usually didn't rehash the reason why he got mad in the first place. It was kind of understood that he was still mad about that and you were still in trouble, but he was there to say sorry for going overboard.

Basically, he was asking you to use that eraser.

We all have our moments. Parenting can be tough. Life can be tough. Everyone flies off the handle at some point or another. But when the steam clears, breathing slows, and your face returns to a slightly more human color, saying you're sorry -- to anyone, child or adult -- is strong evidence that you don't take a good relationship for granted.

And hopefully that big eraser will work its magic and remove the mark you wish you hadn't made. (Or at least lighten it to the point at which the incident ceases to be rift-making and becomes fodder for family reunions. Or blogs.)