Dear Spike:
Our relationship changed today.
You, your mother and I were all playing together in your room. She was reading you a story. I was sitting on the floor with a set of blocks that your grandparents gave to you for Easter, trying to figure out if you really could get a round peg into square hole.
All of the sudden, your mother screamed.
"What!?" I cried.
"She bit me!"
You mom held out a finger, as though to present evidence of the crime. I looked down at you and frowned.
"No." I said.
You smiled — exposing your pearly white weapons of choice — and laughed.
"No!" I repeated, as sternly as I could, jabbing a finger into the air for emphasis.
You stopped laughing and paused for a moment. Your bottom lip began to tremble. Your chin dropped to your chest. Your eyes welled up with tears. You gasped for breath as you sobbed. You looked up at me in absolute horror and pain.
It was, without a doubt, one of the worst moments of my life.
I know that it is part of my job, as your father, to teach you right from wrong. And I know that isn't always going to be as simple as sitting down to reason with you. Sometimes, I'm sure, it will be enough to praise you for doing good. But sometimes, I understand, I'll have to scold you for doing wrong, like I did this afternoon.
And sometimes, I dread, I'll have to punish you.
Your mother and I haven't yet worked out all the details. I'd like to leave all options on the table, including spanking, manual labor and waterboarding. She'd like us to stick to the Geneva Conventions. And as this is an area of parenting in which we absolutely must agree... well... you're just lucky that I can't extradite you to a small island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
In truth, given how awful I felt today, I'm really not sure I could stomach taking a hand to your backside. Just watching your reaction to what was a pretty moderate scolding simply broke my heart. And so I'm not looking forward to ever having to so much as lift my voice to you again.
After it was all over, I took you up into my arms. I hugged you and kissed your cheek. I wiped away your tears. I told you I loved you, again and again. Eventually, the sobbing subsided.
"I know you don't understand all of this," I whispered into your ear. "But you just can't bite mommy."
You looked up at me and smiled, once again displaying the two porcelain steak knives God has chosen to give you as bottom teeth.
I sighed.
Life is simply never going to be the same.
Love,
dad
3 comments:
Dear Mia,
Your grandpa and I both cried when we read about your response to your daddy's scolding. "Oh, that's so sad," he said. "Yes," I said, but it's perfect. She knows exactly what "no" means and that her daddy was unhappy with her behavior."
I don't think there will be many times that he has to do much more than give you a verbal reminder. You love him so much that you already, at 10 months, don't want to disappoint him.
And he loves you so much that he will scold, put you in time-out, or take away your car as many times as needed to help you learn right from wrong. It's the perfect family dynamics.
love ya much,
Grandma L
It looks to me as though Spike is about to strangle you with your hoodie string in that picture. Could it be because you are wearing a Beaver sweatshirt?!
Hugs,
K
Wisdom, love, discipline, guidance, consistency, parenting how wonderful. So proud of you all. Didn't Mia learn that lesson so quickly. She is, after all, an incredible young lady.
Love,
Aunt Karen
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