Yes, and I’ll do it again.

I rarely get angry to the point I must call someone up, breathe fire through the handset, and hang up only to continue spitting nails afterwards. But my daughter certainly pushed me too far one time. It was an emotional moment and after a door was slammed (not sure whether it was hers or mine), I decided to call her up on her way to school as I was in the car driving myself to work.

It was an emotional torrent of thoughts and words and although I don’t remember the entire conversation, I do recall it was very one-sided (i.e. I did all the shouting) and it included words like clueless, entitled, pretension, privilege, a general lack of recognition and righteousness. And that’s just an alphabetical list.

I have told her since she was young that I was not her friend, but her dad. But as she approaches my age, she thinks my aura of authority can be chipped away. In fact, my prerogative hasn’t disappeared; it is simply not exercised. And I can choose to veto any decision that is not in her best interest. She understands that conceptually but sometimes her burgeoning ego gets the better part of her. There is little she can refute that as her dad, everything that I do comes from a place in my heart that few people can reach. And she’s smart enough to know that her gravy train is directly tied to my well-being and mental health. And therein lies her dilemma: build her autonomy under the dictatorship of my roof.

Me hanging up on her wasn’t just a reactionary retort declaring the end of the conversation but was a tone of finality in that some of her behavior wasn’t acceptable to me. It never was and it’s reiterated that it never will be.

And therein lies her dilemma: build her autonomy under the dictatorship of my roof.

After school, she came home and tentatively opened the front door to test the sulfur in the air. She apologized and asked if she could skip swimming practice that night. I think she felt exhausted either mentally or physically and asked if it was alright. And since an entire day has passed, she thought that her old man had mellowed out for his princess. Well, it doesn’t take much to reignite the ambers from the morning.

In the calmest of ways, I said that unless there is sickness, school can’t be skipped. And for extracurricular, the very expensive swimming club fees were already paid with no opportunity of refunds for missed practices. I was firm. I didn’t feel the need to be more incendiary but the scorch earth was clearly still smothering and there was no latitude of goodwill to drench the fire. I took her swimming and brought her back home and gave her the second part of her dinner.

I don’t get a day off being dad so the least my daughter can do is to show up for her commitments—whether she feels like it or not.

That night, she was exhausted. Not just from the school day and the evening swimming practice. With her full belly and mind wandering she realizes that I too have boundaries. And those aren’t just warning signs, but they are actual borders with posted armed guards. The temperature has certainly been dialed down from the morning and I even tucked her into bed that night—something I hadn’t done in a long time.

She went to bed not frustrated. Not angry or even resentful. But instead, she realized that my reaction is directly proportional to the emotional attachment I have. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have said a word and let her do whatever she wanted. She has friends like that. But that’s not the way we run our household.

She fell asleep almost as soon as I turned off the light and closed the door. I heard her faint whisper. She slept soundly and probably felt safe knowing the house was patrolled by a ferocious tiger dad.