Sometimes I recall it in slow motion: Those moments when my kids are laughing, bantering back and forth about this and that, volume rising. A friendly debate ensues, and this mom sees it’s fixin’ to get nowhere fast, maybe even ugly. Then BAM, something inside me snaps, and I just want it to end. I don’t want the conflict, the arguing, the drama. There goes the wrecking ball, aka my tongue lashing, swooshing in to destroy the pettiness and pride. But whose going to destroy mine? “There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of …
