April Fools’ Day is idiotic.
For one thing, most people – in desperate attempts to join in but without the wherewithal or imagination to do something elaborate enough to be deemed an actual prank – just end up lying instead, which isn’t exactly an April 1st phenomenon. After all, you don’t need to prep for that, or wait for the perfect date; all you need to tell a lie is a functioning mouth and low morals!
Besides, actually formalizing and setting aside a day for pranking people defeats the entire purpose; even the least skeptical person on earth cloaks themselves in disbelief on April 1st, preferring to play it safe than be played for a fool.
These days, about the only people you can get away with fooling on April Fools’ Day are little kids. And I happen to have one of those, so let’s get on with it.
Parents are a pretty sensitive group.
Perhaps because they themselves are the King of the Judgers, parents are more attuned to perceived slights than most. No group of people is more “victimized” than parents — and the word “victimized” is in quotes for exactly the reason you think it is.
These days, there’s just not a lot you can get away with saying to or about moms and dads without someone getting offended. You have to use your words very carefully.
You’d probably have better luck suggesting that Hitler had some good ideas than saying just about anything about parenting to a parent.
My son has a Band-Aid fetish. (Don’t get weird; he’s four.)
The dude loves wearing Band-Aids. For any reason. For no reason. FOR ALL REASONS.
(It is weird, just not in that way, pervert.)
Here are the top five “reasons” he’ll ask for a Band-Aid:
- Actual bleeding
- There’s a chance at some point he may bleed sometime later on maybe?
- Batman is on them
I wrote a piece about Detective Munch’s obsession with Band-Aids – they’re nothing but glorified stickers! – for Lifetime Moms, and I wouldn’t be even the littlest bit upset if you were to follow the link below and read it. I promise. I wouldn’t even be mad if you shared it! Seriously. It’s not your fault.
I FORGIVE YOU.
Parenting has a lot in common with sports. Raising a child requires the energy and stamina of an athlete, the vigilance of a referee, the devotion of a die-hard fan and the patience of a coach.
Being a parent is basically like competing in a daily, year-long, rest-of-your-life tournament in which your endurance and your wits are constantly being tested, usually by someone much smaller who has to constantly be told what to do while even though they’re a lot more important than you.
Coincidentally, except for the fact that your kids go to college after you’ve (mostly) finished, instead of not really going to college at all (because the NCAA is corrupt!), parenting is a lot like March Madness.
Let’s count the ways…
On Friday, I wrote about our tendency, as parents, to overvalue our impact on our kids.
We wring our hands over every little thing we do wrong, terrified that the slightest misstep will set our kids on the wrong path. But once you consider how many other influences are out there, you realize that such micromanagement – of our parenting, of their lives – is impossible.
I can’t get my son to do the littlest things right now, why should I think I have the power to get him to do big things when he’s older?