One day, in the fall of 2019 my family was in the middle of a stressful night. It was around nine o’clock and my brother had not finished his school project. We also were packing for a trip that night. But before we get into my story, I must give you some of the background of it. Earlier that day, my younger brother John, my younger sister Lydia, and I had packed, but somehow my brother, John, had forgotten to finish his project. My parents were not happy about this because my brother still had a lot of work to do, they still had to pack for themselves,and had to pack other necessities. At the current time, my mom was helping my brother with his project and my dad was packing.

My sister and I were bored, so we started playing tag in our house and running around yelling loudly. We ran through the kitchen, past my parents, and up the stairs. I hid behind a bed; then, I ran back downstairs, and my sister followed me screeching. Eventually, my dad had had enough of the noise and told us to go upstairs and get ready for bed. My sister quickly ran up the stairs silently. I simply lumbered up because I was bored by the fact that I had to go to my room. Now, I have to inform you that when one arrives at the apex of the steps, one can find a solid railing running along the left side of the hallway. Looking over the entryway below, the hallway continues until it turns to the left. After lumbering up the stairs, I began to walk into my bedroom. From behind the corner previously mentioned, my sister leapt out and shrieked attempting to scare me. I simply said, “Go away,” because I did not want to get in trouble. Unfortunately, this commotion set my dad off. It had only been about twenty seconds since he had reprimanded us, and we had already started yelling and screaming again. He said in a voice that communicated great annoyance and anger, “Sam! Come down here right now and Lydia get to your room!” I was nearly as bothered as he was. The fact that my dad thought that I was the one that yelled was annoying. Do I sound like an eight year old girl? Still, I assumed that as soon as I told him that it was really Lydia who had yelled, he would send me back up. But, that is not what happened. In fact it was the complete opposite. Our conversation went a little something like this. When I got to the bottom of the stairs my dad yelled, “Sam I just said to stop and then you go and act crazy again!” 

“But Dad it wasn’t me, Lydia was the one who yelled.”

“Stop acting crazy and do what I say!” 

Trying to explain the situation for a second time, I said, “Dad, it was Lydia who did it.”

“Stop arguing with me Sam!”

Finally, out of confusion and frustration I yelled, “I didn’t do it!” 

To that, my dad, in a commanding voice only an experienced father has said, “Don’t yell at me! You never yell at your parents! Go sit on the couch over there and wait!”

 In silence, not wanting to get in more trouble, I went over to the couch in our living room. There I waited in total silence for about ten minutes while my dad just kept packing. Then, my dad eventually came over and asked, “Can you help me pack the wetsuits?” We were going to the beach. I obviously was forced by etiquette and fear to say yes. It was during this ordeal that I learned to never disrespect my parents by shouting at them, even when you feel like you are in the right.