By: Jamie Parker
Updated: Oct. 17, 2023
Originally Published: Oct. 17, 2023
The moment I knew I was in trouble as a parent was when my nine-year-old son, Leo, casually munched on a booger while grinning and exclaiming, “Yum!” We were in the backyard, tackling weeds because my partner had requested it, and Leo surprisingly volunteered to join me. It was quite rare for him to show enthusiasm for weeding or spending time together.
Unfortunately, the truth is that we often embarrass each other. I see him as this scruffy little boy I long to embrace, while he views me as the overly affectionate dad in a polo shirt and cargo shorts, whose advice on grooming and cleanliness feels outdated. I often find myself pondering how to guide this booger-eating, messy-haired child into becoming a respectable young man.
“You know, Leo,” I remarked, “one day you might eat a booger in front of someone you like. They’ll probably think it’s gross, but you’ll find them adorable. That experience will stick with you, and you’ll never eat a booger again.”
He rolled his eyes, a familiar reaction whenever I try to impart wisdom. We returned to weeding, and I couldn’t shake the thought of how many times he may have done this in front of others. A wave of shame washed over me, making me question my parenting choices.
Then, unexpectedly, Leo asked, “Did you ever eat a booger in front of Mom?”
I chuckled. “No,” I replied. “I outgrew that way before I met your mom. It would have mortified both of us.” Suddenly, I felt compelled to ask a question that had lingered in my mind for some time. “Do I embarrass you?”
Leo had recently entered a pre-preteen phase where I had often told him to tone it down to avoid making his parents look foolish. I had asked him to refrain from making fart jokes around guests because it was embarrassing. I even suggested he should feel embarrassed about certain actions, as if I could dictate his emotions.
In truth, I was just projecting my own embarrassment onto him. While he sometimes does things that embarrass me, I adore him wholeheartedly. He’s intelligent and humorous. Nonetheless, as I navigate my role as a father, I feel responsible for cultivating his character so that he becomes an upstanding young man who avoids embarrassing situations.
Recently, Leo had begun to express his own embarrassment, but not about the things I found cringe-worthy—rather, he was embarrassed of me.
After a brief moment of contemplation, he shoved his hands into his pockets and nervously scratched at the dirt beneath him. “Only when you hug me in front of my friends,” he admitted.
I had already suspected this. A while back, I had dropped him off at school, and he dashed from the car, narrowly avoiding heavy morning traffic to prevent me from giving him a hug. Part of me wished he would have a close call—just enough to instill some fear and reinforce the lesson that avoiding a dad’s hug could be risky. But instead, I simply stopped hugging him in public; the last thing I wanted was for him to take any unnecessary risks.
In fact, I’ve gradually ceased many public displays of affection over the past year. I no longer hold his hand or kiss him goodbye. I keep my opinions about his unruly hair and overall appearance to our home.
“I kind of knew that,” I said. “But I don’t really get why.”
He didn’t elaborate with a lengthy explanation about peer pressure or his desire for adult treatment. He merely shrugged. So, I made a commitment. “Alright, I won’t hug you in front of your friends anymore. Deal?”
He offered a relieved smile that made me feel terrible, like a piece of him was slipping away. I couldn’t suppress the urge for reassurance. “You still love me, right?”
Leo glanced around to ensure no one was watching before he leaned in for a hug. As he pulled away, he shot me a sidelong glance that seemed to say, “You’re doing it again, Dad.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. He smirked slightly, and we continued our weeding.
This is the reality of parenting a preteen—watching them transition from one stage to another, pulling away as they find their independence, while affection moves into the background. Parents, without a doubt, become a source of embarrassment. Yet, as any parent can attest, there’s nothing quite like a hug from your child, even if it’s a secret exchange in the backyard, away from prying eyes.
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In summary, as children mature, parents must adapt to their changing dynamics, often facing the bittersweet reality of being seen as embarrassing figures. However, these moments can still harbor tender connections, even if they occur discreetly.
Keyphrase: Embarrassing Your Child As A Parent
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