Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Here a Blog, There a Blog, Everywhere a Blog Blog

The title doesn't have anything to do with my post, I just had that song running in my head for no apparent reason. Kids grow up so fast, don't they? I think my biggest fear for my child, outside of physical harm, is that they will turn out to be brats. I mean, how do you keep that from happening? It's not like there are parents out there actively nurturing their children toward brattiness, but there sure are a lot of them out there.


And nobody wants to believe their child is as bad as everyone else thinks they are. To the parent, it's just a phase, or it can be explained away due to some event going on in the child's life. "Junior had to go to bed without dessert because he set his sister's hair on fire. He's really a good boy most of the time."


I can remember as a child how frequently my mother was complimented on how well behaved her 3 boys were (4 if you count my dad, and she did). I always thanked lens-crafters and poorly constructed televisions for giving these people such bad eyesight, since I was certain if they could have seen how we really acted in that restaurant they would have been sharing asides about how the standards for child services stepping in had really slipped.


But as I visit such public arenas as an adult, I notice that it's true, we were well behaved. Heck, judging by some of the tantrums I see these days, we were down right angelic. What's really scary is these are the people who actually try and bring their children out in public. How much worse are the terrors left at home?


It all culminates in a fear for my own children. Of course, there's the equally likely chance of a knee-jerk reaction from me to pounce on them for the slightest infraction, terrifying them into a state of order that only lasts until they realize just how powerless I really am.

"The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers."


Where's the balance? How is it so many others seem to have it all worked out, at least when I can see them? That's all I'm asking for. I don't care if they are holy terrors in the confines of my home. Then they're their mother's problem.

No comments:

Post a Comment