The Taxi ride.

On Sunday afternoon, Ricki and I were in a taxi, on the way to her piano recital. Maybe she was tense, I don’t know, but the fact was that she kept punching me in the arm. I asked her nicely, twice to stop. She didn’t. Going home (consequence #1) was not an option. So I simply told the driver to stop the cab, and switched to the front seat. (Cabs here are not divided front/back like in some big cities.) No yelling, no negative attention, just a clear statement of action: I will not let you punch me. She was great for the rest of the day.