Maybe a Little Too Much Bass

Tuesday night Mommy had to go to a meeting so it was a Daddy-daughter night, so I ordered a pizza and salad, in the time honored tradition of such evenings. When the food arrived, I put the salad down on the dining table and took the pizza into the kitchen to cut it up for Fiona.

As I went, Fiona reached for the salad to grab a carrot.

"Hang on a second, Fiona," I told her, scooting the salad further away from the edge and into the middle of the table. "Wait until I have plates on the table."

I dropped the pizza in the kitchen, grabbed some plates and silverware, and headed back into the dining room. Whereupon I discovered my daughter, stretched out lengthwise across the table, lying on her stomach to reach for ever more carrots and cucumbers.

"Hey!" I barked. "Get down, we do not climb on the table!"

A perfectly reasonable sentiment, and appropriate as well. Unfortunately, as those of you who know me can attest, my voice has a pretty low pitch. And when you combine a deep voice with a hike in volume and a bit of anger and urgency...

Fiona scampered off the table as quickly as she could, which is to say more quickly than she should. She slipped a little, and then starting to flee across the room. Let's just say I clearly crossed the line from reprimanding my child to actually scaring her. As she started to gag on her carrot while stifling sobs, I found myself picking her up and trying to simultaneously let her know that what she had done was wrong, keep her from choking on the food already in her mouth, and soothe her so that she got past her terror.

Which she did, of course, but her enthusiasm for her salad was a little dimmed. And I've resolved to try to modulate down slightly from drill-sergeant-with-a-migraine the next time my child forgets her etiquette.