I walk sleepily into the kitchen. Jacob fusses about the wanting some candy he can't have in the pantry. I tell him no, grab a box of cereal and walk away. He starts yelling "that" and pointing. I turn to see him get angry, then throw a box of tea on the floor. I have enough time to yell "no" twice before he lifts and throws a full bottle of balsamic vinegar (Costco size, mind you) which shatters around him.
I am told he has my temper.
I would like to officially blame my genes and point out a history of tempers in my family.
But, yes. He has my temper.
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