Being an acknowledged Expert in all matters regarding child rearing doesn't mean I'm entirely dismissive of the opinions of others. Even so, I thoroughly enoyed this entry about "mothering drive-bys" at Chez Miscarriage (found on Melanie's site). It's geared specifically to moms, but there's plenty info that will be familiar to fathers as well.
The point, for those not up to reading the whole thing, is that allowing a child to drink sugared apple juice or failing to keep their head covered in 40 degree weather does not equate to systemic child abuse or neglect, and please don't make the comparison. Letting your child play in mud isn't the same as this.
So moved was I by this piece that it has allowed me to come forwards and admit some of my own failings as a father. I hope, when she's older, my daughter can forgive me for the following parental transgressions:
1. I let her eat cookies. Not just the baby aisle kind, but actual cookies. Shortbread even.
2. I have let her go more than three days without a bath,
3. I will turn on Sesame Street (specifically, "Elmo's World") to prevent her being underfoot when I have something to attend to in the kitchen or the bathroom.
4. I have let her cry herself back to sleep.
5. Since the radio is usually on in when she's playing in the living room, I'm reasonably sure a couple of profanities have aired within her hearing.
6. And I'm certain I've personally aired dozens, if not hundreds, of profanities within her hearing.
7. I have let her pick up a Cheerio off the floor and eat it. More than once. Hell, more than half a dozen times.
8. I have taken photos of her strictly for future embarrassment potential.
9. I have put her shoes on the wrong feet and not noticed for almost an hour.
10. I have dressed her in Longhorn garb purely to annoy her mother.
My shame knows no limits.
None of that can be considered abuse, except the Longhorn garb part, which is akin to dropping a hot iron on its face.
It is a well-known fact that Cheerios that have fallen to the floor are far tastier than those that come from the box. And as for those that drop into the crevices of the carseat, only to be found after a week of suitable aging -- aaaah, manna from heaven.
I've been mentally preparing my excuses for the first time Olivia is caught eating from Harry's doggy dish. Hey, it's nutritionally balanced, right? You want her to have strong teeth and a shiny coat, right? Sheesh.
Pete,
We've never met but I'm the ill-informed idiot Eric Campos allows to write the Movie Marketing Madness at Ye Olde Threat. I'm just getting started really on the FilmThreat boards I just found your site here and loved it.
I'm guilty of some of the same parental offences you list (and my own batch I suspect). So are you a Chi Bears fan as well? Remember when they actually use to be a professional football team? Yeah, me neither.
We will have to talk about the St. Louis Cardinals thing, though.
Anyway, drop by my blog if you get the chance.
Later,
--Chris
If the Cheerio wasn't on the floor for more than 5 seconds, you're in the clear. Remember the five second rule.
We've never met but I'm the ill-informed idiot Eric Campos allows to write the Movie Marketing Madness at Ye Olde Threat.
Welcome aboard, Chris. Great column, by the way, even if it does force me to do actual research for my own pieces.
i didn't mention on my own site that i'm already getting mommy drive-bys, mostly by restaurant patrons who look askance at my being on my feet "all day"! gasp! i tried walking on my butt, but that didn't last too long because of the chafing.
And I'm certain I've personally aired dozens, if not hundreds, of profanities within her hearing.
My ex-wife never tired of telling the story of the day that our then 2-3 year old daughter (I think that was the relevant age; she'd been talking for a bit) got frustrated in doing something slightly beyond her motor skills at that time, and let loose with a high pitched, "Oh shit!"
When my ex, suitably shocked, looked at her in horror and said, "What did you say?", the child sweetly looked up at her and said, "Daddy says it."
Needless to say, I caught a ration of shit myself when I got home that evening....
My ex-wife never tired of telling the story of the day that our then 2-3 year old daughter (I think that was the relevant age; she'd been talking for a bit) got frustrated in doing something slightly beyond her motor skills at that time, and let loose with a high pitched, "Oh shit!"
When my ex, suitably shocked, looked at her in horror and said, "What did you say?", the child sweetly looked up at her and said, "Daddy says it."
Heh. One of my uncles was a bubba to the core. I'm told that the first words all three of his boys uttered were "son of a bitch".
CPS has been contacted.