I'd explained all this. But when I showed up at the group home that morning, he was drinking coffee and pacing and still not dressed. I went into his room, took some clothes from the closet, handed them to him. And hinting at what he was about to do only with a small sigh, as if to say, "I've had enough," my son picked me up and threw me across the room. I had three broken ribs and a bit of damage to my liver that made my doctor fret. Still, who among us hasn't wanted to toss our mother across the room when she's nattering on and making cheerful sounds in the morning? (Ann Bauer, “Monster Inside My Son,” Salon, March 26, 2009) Many people have. I certainly have. Nattering on communicates to the kid that his/her primarily role is to take in/adjust to/tend to parents' moods, rather than his/her own. If you get too much of this, you either go inward and remote (autistic), or you attempt to blow away the oppressive "party." If, as I suspect, ...