Since I am, at least on paper, a board-certified pediatrician, I take a small amount of pride in raising my children by the book. Of course when I say raising I use the term loosely, since anyone with eyes can see that my wife does the raising and I fill in as an occasional advisor. Still, when I exercise influence, I like to think that I follow the behavioral guidelines I learned as a pediatric resident.
Somewhere in the rulebook it says that a good parent should not indulge a six year-old daughter by carrying her when she decides she does not feel like walking. An able child should walk on her own, no matter how much she carries on. And while the parent may acknowledge that one of the reasons said daughter wants to be held is jealosy that a much younger sibling gets to be carried, nevertheless the rulebook remains clear: Hang tough.
My medical and personal judgment should prevail. Make the girl walk. She's no baby, it's good for her. Be the parent you are supposed to be.
Then the devil starts to whisper in my ear. This little girl -- yes, still little -- barely tops 60 pounds. I have been, ahem, working out lately, and am capable of carrying a 60 pound sack of potatoes several hundred yards in varied terrain without any real problem. The real temptation then follows. My girl will continue to grow, and one day I will not be able to carry her any more. One day, I will not be strong enough to walk a hundred yards myself, much less carry my little bird along with me. And though my daughter is yet very much a child, she presently will acquire that sense of dignity that will preclude her ever again allowing me to carry her in public.
One day very soon I will carry her for the very last time.
And so, if you visit a shopping mall in the New Orleans area this Christmas season, you may see a middle-aged doctor carrying an oversized bundle down the electronics aisles. Promise you won't laugh too hard.
Somewhere in the rulebook it says that a good parent should not indulge a six year-old daughter by carrying her when she decides she does not feel like walking. An able child should walk on her own, no matter how much she carries on. And while the parent may acknowledge that one of the reasons said daughter wants to be held is jealosy that a much younger sibling gets to be carried, nevertheless the rulebook remains clear: Hang tough.
My medical and personal judgment should prevail. Make the girl walk. She's no baby, it's good for her. Be the parent you are supposed to be.
Then the devil starts to whisper in my ear. This little girl -- yes, still little -- barely tops 60 pounds. I have been, ahem, working out lately, and am capable of carrying a 60 pound sack of potatoes several hundred yards in varied terrain without any real problem. The real temptation then follows. My girl will continue to grow, and one day I will not be able to carry her any more. One day, I will not be strong enough to walk a hundred yards myself, much less carry my little bird along with me. And though my daughter is yet very much a child, she presently will acquire that sense of dignity that will preclude her ever again allowing me to carry her in public.
One day very soon I will carry her for the very last time.
And so, if you visit a shopping mall in the New Orleans area this Christmas season, you may see a middle-aged doctor carrying an oversized bundle down the electronics aisles. Promise you won't laugh too hard.