Updated: August 18, 2015
Originally Published: September 13, 2010
Two children and a dog refer to me as “dad”—well, mostly. The dog, however, doesn’t really call me anything; he just barks, wags his tail, and nudges his empty water bowl toward me.
As for my two kids, they have a variety of names for me—sometimes it’s “abba” (the Hebrew term for father) or “daddy.” My daughter, the lovely one with dark hair, occasionally calls me “da-da” and flashes a cheeky smile, which usually prompts me to scoop her up in a bear hug, playfully warning her not to use that smile on me.
She giggles and claims she has no idea what I mean, but I can’t help but mirror that same impish smile back at her. It’s the kind of grin that drives my friends and family a bit crazy, making them question what mischief I’m up to. I cherish it; it brings out that inner child in me.
That smile often leads to an instinctive check of my wallet. I can feel the impending phone call from an irate parent or authority figure, and I’ll admit, it’s much more enjoyable to write about myself than to include my daughter in these thoughts. The reality is, as a parent, I can’t help but worry about my kids. What keeps me up at night? The fear that they might end up just like me.
Yes, I’m occasionally terrified they’ll mirror my more foolish moments. I fret that they’ll lose interest in school if they aren’t challenged, falling into poor study habits. I worry they’ll figure out how to cut corners and take shortcuts.
I’m concerned they’ll believe they can charm their way out of any situation or, worse, leap off the roof into the swimming pool. My daughter, already a tough cookie, is adamant about keeping pace with her older brother.
Some of my fears are probably overblown—like worrying about her dating at just six years old—but still, I can’t help it. She’s quite fond of boys, and I know all too well how many ways they can make girls feel special, often without meaning a word of it. I dread the potential heartache she might face.
To prepare for this, I’ve told her brother to brace himself. I plan to send him off to a Tibetan monastery for some serious self-defense training, where he’ll return not just as a peaceful soul, but also as a master of 1,983 ways to protect his sister.
Of course, I can’t be there to shield her all the time, so I might as well enlist his expertise. Speaking of expertise, I’m curious if those monks will help him study for his Torah portion. He’s got some time before his Bar Mitzvah, but planning ahead is essential.
Now, I just need to convince his mother about this fantastic boarding school that promises an education unlike any other. This will be a monumental sales pitch, as she’s no fool.
And then there’s the challenge of persuading his little sister that it’s okay for him to be away for a while. In her eyes, he’s nothing short of a superhero. The truth is, if he ever decides that girls aren’t so icky, he might date a few. If a heart gets broken, I can just imagine her response—she might just try to break their arms.
Once, I scolded him for turning up the volume on his video game, and she marched up to me, shaking her little finger in my face. I had to stifle my pride; I couldn’t let her know how impressed I was with her loyalty. These kids might drive me to lose all my hair with their antics, but they certainly take care of each other.
I guess we must be doing something right in our parenting journey.
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In summary, parenting is an adventure filled with laughter, worries, and the occasional heart-stopping moment, but it’s all part of raising kids who look out for one another.
Keyphrase: Parenting Adventures
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