The poem in the previous post by Jack Prelutsky really struck a nerve.  When I was a child my mother screamed and beat me if I dropped some milk or juice on the floor.  I was terrified and would retreat inside myself.  If someone yells at me now sometimes I’m passive but mostly I yell back.  In the future I will try to remember to say “Don’t yell at me!

Every once in a while I yell at usually at a family member who won’t listen to me.  One time my son Michael (he picked his alias) wouldn’t clean out the microwave.  I asked him about six times to clean it, but he wouldn’t do it.  I have a soft feminine voice so I deepened my voice and screamed in his face.  It startled and scared him.  As a child he was rarely yelled at.  After that he almost always cleaned up after himself.  Sometimes I need to yell because that’s the only way to make people listen, but I wish I didn’t have to.

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