My partner has a bit of a rough hand at things that do not immediately do as she wants. For example, if she wants to open a jar of mustard and it will not open she goes, all too quickly for my liking, to the biggest “hammer” in her arsenal to get at the mustard. These are, so far, theoretical examples of her willingness to kick things up a notch or two, let’s just say, quickly.
So we are driving along with the new stroller in the trunk of the car and I launch into this overly paternalistic lecture about being careful with the stroller, reading the instructions if we are unsure of how to do something and blah blah blah. She rolls her eyes, yawns at my lecture and looks out the window in boredom.
We get to Vanier Park and I pull the stroller out of the trunk. It is collapsed like an Ikea cabinet on its way to North America. Partner reads to me from instruction book to, “grab it at this point, do this and then this will and then it will open up.”
I grab, I pull, I do as she says the instructions say to do and then I try harder, and then harder and then, KAPOOEY, two straps shoot off each side, obviously ripped with their snaps broken.
Now it is how we respond to stressful situations that defines our character. In this case we both looked up, locked eyes in shocked horror and then blamed each other for the broken straps.
I saw it as her fault for not telling me to undo the two little straps that hold the stroller in the folded position and she blames me for using too much force when trying to open it. Either way, we couldn’t help but laugh at the situation in light of my long and tedious lecture about being careful with the stroller and not using too much force and so on. In the end we did laugh and hug one another and then went for a glorious walk along the beach.
Note to self, “shut up”.