Earlier this morning, I took K-Man to the park. After spending a total of about five hours sliding down the “fire pole” yesterday, he was geeked up to go back this morning. (Unfortunately, the new friends that he made yesterday couldn’t make it today.) As K-Man was sliding down the pole for the 100th or 500th time, I noticed a few of the other dads and kids in the park.
There was the jock dad with a group of 10-year old (or so) kids. He was playing “permanent quarterback” while the kids enjoyed a spirited game of three-on-three touch football. This was clearly the former athlete (former because he clearly wasn’t participating in any sort of activity these days), sports dad, one-time fraternity president, coach the kids’ teams guy. He was pushing the kids, but not in that over-the-top kind of way we read about in the news.
Then, there was the dad who had his kids at the park to give his wife a break. He wanted very little to do with his kids and was merely killing time. This was the tight ship running dad. He kept counting down the time the kids had left in the park. He wasn’t all that interested in the fact that his two kids were having a good time. He was going to be there for 20 minutes…and nothing more.
Finally, there was the altogether invisible dad. His kids were dressed head-to-toe in camouflage and carrying toy automatic rifles. These kids were playing “war,” as they dropped into the sandbox, slid on their bellies and elbows and fired “play shots” at the other kids at the park. Dad, meanwhile, sat far away reading his paper and never looked up.
The entire scene struck me as parenting in a nutshell. In short, as I consider what my next book will be (and I think I’ve finally got it worked out), I realize there is no “parenting/fatherhood” market. What I mean is that that there are all kinds of parents. We all do things differently. We’ll eventually find our way toward other parents who have the same kind of views/styles we have, but it’s impossible to say, “I wrote a book for dads.” What kind of dads?
I received a review for my last book on Amazon (a couple actually) that just ripped me to shreds. And, there are others who apparently loved it. Clearly, the couple of people who ripped the book hated the content and the style of writing. And, equally clearly, I don’t think we’d get along. Based on the comments/critiques, we have different parenting styles. I don’t have a problem with these people ripping the book – I really don’t. The fact is, it wasn’t written “for them.” It’s impossible to write a book “for parents.” There is no category of “parents.” It’s far too segmented.
I read a ton of parenting content that I hate. Why? Simply because I don’t believe the things the writers are saying. Why? Because we have different styles. Just like people have different political beliefs. That doesn’t make what they write wrong. It just makes what they write wrong for me. But, I’m not going to rip them for the way they do things. I’m not going to judge them as good parents or bad. (Admittedly, however, when I saw the kids playing “war,” I made all kinds of assumptions about that dad. I quickly stopped myself. I don’t know that dad. I don’t know his history. Who am I to say what his kids are doing is wrong. He may very well think it’s crazy to let a kid pretend to be a firefighter all day…every day.)
Finally, as I got a few hours to myself this afternoon, I was sitting at a bar next to a woman who was drinking a martini and a beer. She was nervously handling a clear plastic shopping bag, which allowed me to see the EPT box inside. Clearly, she thought these two drinks might be her last for a while. So, why not go big and double fist? After a few minutes, she went to the bathroom with her friend. Ten minutes later, she returned. Negative.
If she had been pregnant…I wonder what kind of parent she would have been? There’s no telling.
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