I am a firm believer in BYOB (Bring Your Own Beer). It encourages responsibility, teamwork, and the potential for a great story regarding last minute travel plans and a general lack of pants. As the last member to join the blogging party, I will share my thoughts, try to entertain, and promise to leave your digital couch first thing in the morning. And most of the time, I’ll be wearing pants.
I’m 41 years old, married, and the father of two wonderful children. (As a married parent, I am contractually obligated to use the word wonderful, although most of the time it is applicable.) Every morning, my 4 year old son (the human alarm clock) wakes me at 7AM to the same three loving words, “Where’s the iPod?” quickly followed by a rendition of “Don’t bother me, I know what I’m doing,” and “You’re not the boss of me.” My 8 year old daughter usually doesn’t have time to say good morning like the boy, but she does ask for the car keys every Tuesday and Thursday.
Now before you think I have Cat’s in the Cradle on auto play while I weep in the shower for lost family miniature golf outings, I think these are good things. I think sometimes we emphasize pleasing others too much before teaching our kids to be independent and assertive. Life is too short to be upset with the after bath mooning or trying to convince your daughter that you do indeed understand the politics of 2nd grade recess.
As a dad, I accept the Homer Simpson mantle even though I have my occasional Andy Taylor moments and great hair. I want them to respect themselves, respect others, and not be afraid to put on their Hulk Hands and mix it up once in awhile. We can only teach our kids so much and I relish the journey of each battle, victory, and loss along the way. My intention is to document these stories to remember the good times, bad times, and how they all truly unfolded like the time my daughter and I organized a lemonade stand…
“Dad, I don’t want to have a lemonade stand?”
“I want to have a diamond stand. Who wants lemonade when you can have diamonds?”
Perhaps the girl doesn’t need my advice after all. Cue Cat’s in the Cradle.