After a full day of homeschooling and being available to the kids all the time, I finally had a moment alone. I went to the library, shut the door, and the moment I sat down—
Tap tap scratch
Someone was at the library door.
“NO!” I half-screamed, half-howled in frustration.
It was R, asking for screen time.
“I said ‘NO’! In what world does that mean, ‘By all means, please intrude on the first solitary moment I’ve had all day to ask me a question you could have asked your father, who was in the room you just left!’ GET OUT!!!!”
I’ll admit that, to my chagrin, I sounded a bit more like K in meltdown mode than I would like.
My kids have always misunderstood the purpose and correct use of doors. Leaving my bedroom door open when I’ve asked them to close it; slamming the door instead of closing it nicely (“Do that again,” I’d intone, “and I’ll take your door off its hinges. You don’t get the privilege of a door if you can’t use it properly.”); not knocking upon encountering a closed door; and now, failing to realize that a closed door means “I want privacy, so don’t bug me unless it’s an emergency.”
I’m thinking of adding “Door etiquette” to our ever-expanding life skills curriculum, right alongside “How to answer a telephone (hint: don’t just pick it up and listen)” and “Garbage cans and how to use them.”
In the meantime, I think I’d better go hug R. Then I’m going to find a good spot to be by myself for a little while; I hear the car is nice this time of year.