Hybrid work arrangements post pandemic simply means what was once my temporary home office is now a permanent part-time office. As with everything that returned to normal, but different, I adapted and decided to upgrade my computer video cards so I can attach four monitors. I was looking around the house for another 24” monitor and realized that I’ll just swap out the 20” on my desk with the one my daughter barely used except for watching YouTube.

When my daughter came home from school and discovered what I had done, she went ape shit. It wasn’t just an outburst or a slow simmer, but one comment after another on how unjust, how I didn’t get permission and how I did this behind her back the whole thing was. While that might be true, I didn’t really think it was a big deal. If it meant so much, I’d buy another 24”. Her own laptop screen was a fraction of that size. She barely used the monitor on her desk whereas I would stare at it for the whole workday at home. Her reaction was completely disproportionate. I always aim not to be a dictatorial dad and offered a perfunctory apology as I note that I didn’t give explicit notice and waited for permission to remove something I had placed in her room in the first place to help with her online-school once a upon a time. I also don’t make it a habit of entering her room to begin with. But her anger didn’t stop and that’s when I felt that it was something else. But first I put my foot down and told her to put a lid on it.

 

I’m sure this will not be the last time we’ll have strong words for each other. But I wanted to set a tone with my daughter that it is not her emotions that are in question here—but its proportionality.

 

We both took a five-minute break. I recomposed myself and using a conciliatory tone I had learned from my CEO at work to try to create a teaching moment for my daughter. “I’m not sure what triggered this rage, but the reaction should be relative to the initial action itself. If not, then someone or something else is at play.” I try to adapt Newton’s third law, as well. “What set your outburst in motion?” I asked. “It can’t just be the monitor sitting on the edge of your desk gathering dust,” I followed. No sooner had I finished that sentence, than I realize what was going on in my daughter’s head and why she reacted so badly.

I’m not the one who goes into my daughter’s room to clean out her closet. Or tidies her desk. Or makes her bed. I’m not the one who goes there to rearrange furniture. I’m also not the one who goes and throws her shit out or bundle it up for donation. Her room is her private space. I realize the very things I don’t do are the very things the other parent does do. So, my daughter was not only transferring those frustrations she exhibits at her mom’s but projecting them onto me. Enough said. I concluded by saying, “I am not she and cannot be painted with the same brush.” I paused there to let my daughter absorb it.

She didn’t say much but her silence was recognition of that realization. Her anger was receding. I tried to lighten the mood, “I don’t give you stuff that can be thrown out. In fact, the stuff I give is so good, that in this case, if you don’t use it, I’ll take it back.” She chuckled. Then I said, “You need to cut your old man some slack. I don’t react like this when my shirts and hoodies go missing from my closet.” She became sheepish.

I’m sure this will not be the last time we’ll have strong words for each other. But I wanted to set a tone with my daughter that it is not her emotions that are in question here—but its proportionality; she needn’t add more force to what was already there. Her feelings are already her truth so I will not tell her that she is wrong to feel what she feels. She just needs to understand the origins and what set it into motion.