My son is an extroverted feeler and my daughter is an introverted thinker.
When he was 12 and she was 7, their father and I were working out the details of a divorce. He moved out for a year, moved back in for a year, and now was out again. It had taken me two years of couple's counseling to decide that yes, we did need to get divorced. Now we were in the year of hammering out the details.
One day he came over and was obnoxious and rude. I got angry and yelled and threw him out. I slammed the door after him. I didn't usually do that and it felt both good and bad.
The kids were conferring. I wondered if I'd scared them, losing my temper. They both came to me.
"Mom, we don't want you to yell at dad and make him leave." said the EF, arms crossed. The IT stood beside him. "And no slamming doors."
"But he was rude first!" I said, realizing as I said it, uh, lame. And where have I had this conversation before?
"We know that he was rude. But we aren't talking about him. We are talking about your behavior. We don't care what he does." They both looked stern and fierce.
"So I have to behave no matter what he does." I said. They nodded. "You are right. I apologize for yelling at dad, throwing him out and slamming the door. I need to behave anyhow. That's what I tell you, right?"
"Yes, mom." And then they both hugged me to comfort me.
I felt sheepish for behaving badly, but mostly proud. Proud that my kids felt comfortable confronting a misbehaving adult and the one with whom they were living, me. Right after a yelling tantrum, too. And proud that they were giving me back the message that I'd given them for years: I don't care what the other kid did, that is not acceptable behavior. And overall I felt pretty good that I really had not yelled and slammed doors very often: we'd done the majority of our fighting in the counselor's office and had tried to make it very clear that it was not the kids' fault.