The Mediator

We are arguing passionately discussing my computer and cloud drive management skills. It started with me complaining about my machine being slow. He says it is because I have too much junk on it. I say that junk includes huge databases that provide a substantial source of income AND, more importantly, photos of our family.

I have fabulous document-management skills. But for about 15 years of my career, I had been accustomed to dedicated IT staff that provided clear direction and assistance with back up, separate storage space, security issues, etc. And I had always used PCs (instead of a Mac, which I got partially because they purportedly require less IT maintenance). So I am admittedly not the best at cloud storage (which is relatively new anyway), nor am I skilled with Macs in general, and then it turns out that iPhoto is not really compatible with cloud storage anyway. Geez! I just need a little help here…or at least a sympathetic ear.

Instead of clearly expressing my desire for help and sympathy, I complain. And we bicker. (Note to self: Next time, just say “Guess what? I really don’t know everything and I need help, please!”)

Anyway, we’re not angry…just bantering and clearly annoyed with the other’s responses. Of course, she can hear those tones in our voices. Mia interrupts us with her solution:

“Papa, Papa, wait. You can’t say that. You just have to listen to everything what Mama says. You just have to do whatever things Mama says. That is all you can do. Then everything will be ok.”

[I was almost in tears over these instructions for Papa. He pretended to be only partially amused. We were both trying not to laugh at her sincere intervention.]

“Mama, Mama! You can’t say that because I think that is a bad word. So you can’t say that word.”

[I concede, and agree to not say ‘that bad word’.]

“You can say “I love you” though.”

Then we have a group hug, and all exchange “I love you”. Most importantly, we thank Mia for her mediation skills.

That is right, folks: We just got called out by our three-year old for having a silly argument.

For the record, I confess to saying way too many bad words BUT during this particular conversation I had not actually used any four-letter words nor even invoked names of holy Catholics. So we remain perplexed at which of those words was interpreted as “bad”.

But we all agree that “I love you” is a perfectly good thing to say.

About Stephanie

I am a mother and a wife, lady scientist, gardener, fabulous cook, foodie, world traveler, and aspiring polymath. I like to ignore stereotypes, challenge the status quo and encourage independent thought.
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