Every child has the right to discover early in life that he isn’t the center of the universe (or his family or his parents’ lives), that he isn’t a big fish in a small pond, and that he isn’t the Second Coming, so as to prevent him from becoming an insufferable brat.
John Rosemond, “traditional parenting” specialist and nationally syndicated columnist, often exhorts today’s wimpy parents to “get tough” with their kids, withhold positive reinforcement and generally place their own wants/needs/desires over their children’s. Call me easy, but sometimes I just can’t resist putting my kids first.
(Click here to read what one critic has to say about Rosemond’s brand of advice.)
Three instances from a lovely week of parental “weakness”:
— I work at night, therefore it stands to reason that I should sleep during the day. But this spring morning was so gall-dang gorgeous, instead of plopping my 4-year-old in front of the TV so I could catch a few much-needed winks, we laced up our walking shoes and headed to the park. Although I really could have used that nap, mommy’s half-hour workout of swing-pushing made my son’s day.
— I went to work early and stayed late last night so I could take a long dinner break to go watch my 11-year-old daughter’s school chorus performance. How could I miss her debut as a Flying Monkey in their “Selections from ‘The Wizard Oz’?” I simply could not, Mr. Rosemond. And her plastic-cup fez was especially fetching.
— Another evening spent on the sidelines cheering for my teenage boy. Sure, I could have been shopping at Target, attending Book Club or getting a pedicure, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. The payoff? When he finished his shot put event, he came over and gave me a big hug before I raced off to work.
These are the kind of silly, fleeting moments that make parenting the joy that it is. All the sacrifices are worth it.Tweet