This will be quick. I’ve spent the weekend indulging in a cocktail of vitamins, anti-biotics and pain killers and I’m due at work in 7 hours. Then I’m due at another work in 11 hours. And after that I have classes at university starting in 15 hours. But there’s only 7 hours of classes on Monday, so I should be ready for bed about this time tomorrow night.
So… What kind of parent am I?
It’s a rhetorical question.
My answer is – “generally good”. My children are fed. They’re clothed. They’re educated. They have good manners. Flys don’t show them excessive attention when we go on a picnic.
So what has raised this most distressing of questions?
What kind of parent am I?
It was bath time tonight. I called out to Mr7, “Get in the bath. And wash your hair.” Several minutes later I walked into the bathroom with a new bottle of shampoo. “Here you go, remember to wash your hair.”
And his response? “How do I do that?” The boy turns 8 in less than a month and he doesn’t know how to wash his hair. I left the room to avoid laughing, crying and strangling him. I conveyed my discovery to my wife. She was shocked, but between the 2 of us we reflected on his life and realised that it was very possible one or the other of us had actually washed his hair every week for the last 405 weeks. He’d never done it himself, and didn’t associate the instruction with our prior actions.
So Mr7 took a quantum leap forward in becoming an autonomous human entity tonight. He can now wash his own hair.
What kind of parent am I? A better one now!