So the other night, I read aloud for the whole family, "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown". I even held up the book to show them the pictures, on account of I learned that routine from my own experiences teaching school, ages four through eight~my age, not theirs.
Remember playing school? Loved it. I made sure I was always the art teacher, while my older sister, Nicki, was the spelling teacher. For some reason, it always ended with them (two younger siblings) begging and sobbing to go learn spelling, which was really, really dumb, "because art is WAY better than spelling, you stupid kids!" And I shoved them in that direction, where Nicki lovingly scooped them up and they all whispered together while casting furtive glances in my general direction.
WAS IT MY FAULT THEY DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO DRAW AN APPLE THE RIGHT WAY? I don't think so, people. So let's not go shooting the messenger here. Gads.
Anyway, I've changed. I'm more patient now. And to prove it, just re-read that first paragraph about the scab I won't let heal. All because of my tremendous growth in that area.
Lesson learned. (pick, pick, pull...CRAP!)