The Fear Dance and Responsibility

My son Michael and his wife, Amy, also have been on the dance floor with their Fear Dance. And their reactions have not always been pretty. One day Michael came home with a new cell phone and plan—about the sixth one in six months. He easily succumbs to the newest telecommunications gadget and the coolest “free minutes” plan.

He was fully aware that Amy and he had recently discussed his cell-phone addiction and that he had promised not to purchase any new phones unless they discussed it. But he was confident that if he broke the news to her right, with humor, she would not be upset. He walked in the door, happy and enthusiastic about his new acquisition. “Hey, Baby, want my number?” he announced with a grin. When Amy responded, “I already have your number,” he thought he was home free. He smiled and proceeded, “Oh, you don’t have this one,” and showed her the phone. The humor evaporated and Amy exploded.

“You’re so irresponsible!” she yelled. “How could you do this? We don’t need another cell phone in this house!” While Michael listened, Amy vented her frustration. Soon he noticed their young son, standing with them in the living room.

Michael pointed to Cole, hoping Amy would take the signal not to display her anger or belittle him in front of their little boy. She noticed his signal, all right. “Well, I want Cole to hear how irresponsible you are!” she fumed, and she continued her tirade. Michael doesn’t typically escalate an argument, but that comment sent him through the stratosphere.

Amy had never done anything like it before—and Cole stood there, dumbfounded. You could almost see his bewildered brain wondering, What is going on? Amy realized she had gone way over the line, and she fled into the bedroom. Michael ran right behind her, but not before he turned and instructed Cole, “You stay here!”

Overcome by his anger, Michael started pointing at Amy and shouting, “This is all your fault!” Of course, their problem had nothing whatsoever to do with his unwise purchase! After all, how could he be expected to control the way he used the family’s money? After all, he was addicted. But none of that occurred to him at the time.

Amy responded to his barrage of accusations by retreating all the way into the closet. He followed right after her, pointing his finger at her. “What were you thinking, talking that way in front of our son, accusing me of being this and that?” “Don’t you point at me!” Amy shot back. Michael sucked in his breath and retorted, “Oh yeah?” Then he began pointing at her in rapid-fire succession, with both hands, as if his fingers had become bullets from a machine gun. As he did, he says he saw himself as the smartest, coolest guy in the world. Amy did not. She laughed.