Sometimes You Will Suck

In general, I consider myself a good dad. I feed my kids, wash them, try to keep them entertained, and my boys haven’t sustained any major injuries on my watch. At roughly 10:30AM yesterday morning, however, I easily would have taken the title of World’s Worst Dad hands down. My behavior went far beyond Bill Cosby feeding the chocolate cake to his kids for breakfast. The wire hanger scene from “Mommie Dearest” is a more apt comparison. If Dane Cook witnessed this event and spoke of it in his stand-up routine, I’d be the “bag of douche” he’d likely reference.

The scene: an end-of-year celebration for my 5-year-old’s preschool class. We drove down to the lake at the center of town. I loaded up the stroller with my sleeping 10-month-old, video camera, and diaper bag; and proceeded to push it across the common towards the gathering. It was a beautiful morning, sunlight dancing on the water, and kids’ laughter filling the air. There was to be a parade with kazoos, leis, and the kids would receive a graduation certificate in a simple ceremony to mark the move to kindergarten. Should be a wonderful time, right?

Twenty minutes later I’m fuming, hustling my crying son back to the minivan. I didn’t berate him in front of his classmates or the other parents, but I’m sure my body language spoke volumes. Except for the classic can’t-catch-your-breath sobbing from the booster seat behind me, the ride home was silent. Until I unleashed on my firstborn a host of things from the Things-You-Should-Never-Say-To-Your-Child handbook.

I’m sure you’re eager to know the crime that induced my tirade at this point. Did he pee in the punch bowl? Call another little kid an asshole? Kick a buddy in the nuts? None of the above.

He was shy. That’s right. His shyness turned me into Mr. Hyde.

Often when we go to parties my son is tentative and self-conscious, even if he knows every last person there. He’ll usually sit on the sidelines during any gym-type birthday party. The shyness is often accompanied by clinginess, which can be troublesome when your forty-pound kid has a two-fisted death grip on your shorts pockets and is pulling them straight to the ground (which was part of the graduation ceremony incident).  Right or wrong, it frustrates the hell out of me because I don’t understand it. Instead of doing the logical thing and talking with him, and letting him join the fray when he was ready, I issued a Jack Bauer-like ultimatum after the fourth kid asked him to play while he cowered behind the stroller. “You’ve got three seconds to decide,” I whispered harshly through clenched teeth. “Go play, or we’re leaving!” Nice, huh? To top it off, I sent him to his room when we got home.
 

In my defense, it was a hectic morning. My 10-month-old was unusually fussy and I had a bunch of crap to do before the party. I also had way too much blood in my coffee stream for that hour of the morning. That doesn’t excuse what I did to the poor kid, of course. I mean, big deal. Some kids are shy in large groups, even if it only happens once in a while.

Once I cooled down and spoke to my wife, the dreaded Voice of Reason kicked in and I realized that, short of chucking him into the lake, I couldn’t have handled the situation much worse. I sat down and talked with my son. I told him that I was wrong and I shouldn’t have talked to him the way I did. I told him that it’s okay to be shy sometimes, and that being shy isn’t a reason to punish him. He accepted my apology, but he was still sad. And I still feel guilty.

The moral of the story is that, despite all your best efforts, you’re going to make mistakes. Don’t get too down on yourself.  It’s okay, as long as you recognize when you’re wrong, own up to it, and make things right with your kid.