Next to Godliness

I have an extraordinarily clean face.

I don't even use this lovely "Pope-on-a-rope" soap, but still I think that my face is nearer to Godliness than most faces in this part of Los Angeles, perhaps even all of California.

You see, washing my face is the mindful personal practice I use when I feel myself starting to get peeved. And as the father of two boys, aged two and four, I have plenty of opportunities for anger.

Like yesterday.

My kid was, you know, having big feelings. Loud. With flying shoes. And one of the flying shoes hit me in the head. Stee-rike! Sounded a bit like a champagne cork popping. Felt more like a shoe in the face. I was surprised, to say the least, but not nearly as surprised as he was.

"Daddy!" he yelled, before I had a chance to even respond, "Go wash your face!"

I suppose it sounds a bit chaotic, and to be honest, sometimes it is. But as I was toweling myself off, I couldn't help but smile. I think maybe that this is what a functional family looks like: a kid who's not afraid to give Dad a pointer about how to regulate his feelings, and a Dad who's not afraid to take the kid's advice.

So my suggestion? Next time you feel the volcano starting to simmer, go get yourself a nice bar of something clean and start scrubbing.