Good morning, Kings and Queens.

You’ve probably figured out by now that my family takes up a lot of space in my mind. They bring me the most joy, but also all my grey hairs (maybe that’s why this woman offered me her seat on the train).

When I lose this weight, I’m gonna do like those guys at the barbers, put some black dye in my beard, re-pierce my nipple, and get a badman tattoo.

Anyway, my youngest isn’t right—he’s 11 but acts like he’s 25. Always in grown folks’ business and messing with his big brother. He plays rugby, and on Sunday, I had to stand in the middle of a field watching them get destroyed. I never wanted to be a shouty parent, but it’s hard to watch them mess up without saying something. It’s nothing like those crazy football parents, though—much more civilized.

I learned something about my mum this weekend. I was talking to a parent who mistook me for someone friendly, and he started telling me how rugby helped his kid with aggression. Little did he know my kids both do karate, but I let him talk.

After the game, the kid gets subbed and immediately pulls out his phone. I joke that he can’t be cold if his fingers are working, but then the game ends and I’m thinking about the cost of cleaning my car because of how dirty my kids were.

This dad tells his son to put the phone away so they can huddle and talk about their loss, but the kid tells him to “shut up” and “leave me alone.” Now, I’m embarrassed for both of us, and I’m wondering if there’s a rule against hitting someone else’s kid.

The kid walks away, ignoring his dad’s calls to come back. So now we’re both embarrassed, and the dad says he’ll be by the car, leaving the kid to “think about his actions.” That was my cue to leave.

That’s when I realized how my mum must’ve felt sometimes. For the rest of the day, I treated my youngest like he was that boy who walked away. I know I wasn’t right, but it helped me understand why my mum was sometimes so unreasonable with me.