Sometimes I think my younger daughter has no instinct for self-preservation. Ms. High Anxiety seems to be unable to help herself. When she gets nervous, all of her sense about people goes right out the window. The result is foreseeable. On a day like yesterday, when Mr. Philately and I got on each other�s nerves and could agree about little, we could agree on one thing: Day-Hay was a menace (or, more realistically, a pest, but neither of us had much perspective yesterday.)

Mr. Philately and I are two very strong-willed people yoked together by marriage. Most days, we pull together and, slowly but surely, we get most of what we want with our efforts. Once in a very great while, we stop pulling together and re-assess where we are going, usually with some heat, great light, but very little fire. There is noise and flash but very little actual danger. Slightly more frequently, we vary our pace from each other just a little, almost imperceptibly, causing the yoke to, well, itch a bit and yowl from the frustration of being unable to scratch. These times are noisier but mean very little in the long run.

The best way to deal with these times is Kat�s way, which she once described as �duck and cover.� Day-Hay struts into the fray, throws herself forward, and tries one of two approaches, both potentially fatal (although she seems not to notice the danger.) The first approach is to try to direct us. Bad mistake! When two bull-headed people are itchy from the fit of a yoke and can�t scratch, chances are that they will be viewing what is going on as a battle for who controls. They will instantly unite, if only for a second, in the view that no little pipsqueak is going to control anything.

The second approach is to try to jolly us out of our irritation. Worse mistake! While both Mr. Philately and I have a sense of humor, Day-Hay is rarely funny at such times and often comes across as making fun of one or the other of us. Making fun of both of us is a little risky. Appearing to take sides, especially as we may just as easily switch sides in a second because the sides are almost beside the point, is just plain foolhardy.

Yesterday, somewhere in there, I tried to be the adult and take Day-Hay aside and explain. But how do you explain? I tried to tell her that it was something like her and her sister. Some days, Dad and I just get on each other�s nerves. Some days, particularly after long vacations with no routine, we just irritate each other. Just as the noise between her and Kat usually means nothing in the long run, so too the noise between Mr. Philately and I is full of heat and light and signifies nothing.

Mr. Philately and I like each a whole lot better today�as expected. I even made him happy by remembering that today is my wedding anniversary. Day-Hay has baked us a cake (although she is threatening to put what Mr. Philately thinks of as �the dreaded sprinkles� on it but tastefully, she promises.) We are going out to a movie tonight. (We have advanced tickets so I know we�ll get in.)

But I doubt, even now, Day-Hay has figured out that, for Mr. Philately and me, tomorrow will come and we will still be together. I doubt, even now, that Day-Hay will have figured out that sometimes those days of irritation cleanse the air much like rain causes particles to drop out of the sky.

It must be tough trying to parent your parents.

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