I think that woman just called me a pedophile.

That’s what went through my mind when I was once part of a panel of at-home dads on a syndicated talk show. The first question (more of an outlandish statement than a question) came from a mother who said she would never leave her daughter alone with a stay-at-home dad (SAHD). She was afraid a man helping her child in the bathroom would not be able to control himself. You know, because we can’t be trusted around a prepubescent vagina. She had seen some bad stuff go down … once on an episode of Law & Order.

As crazy as this woman sounded, it made me think: She can’t be the only one who feels this way. Other issues raised by the audience were less controversial but no less ridiculous. Here’s the actual TV segment:

Based on that experience, here are five sadly popular SAHD myths stay-at-home fathers regularly:

1. Don’t trust a SAHD with your children

This is one of the most annoying and horrific SAHD myths. One of my fellow panelists answered such a pedophile implication with, “That sounds like a ‘you’ problem, not a ‘dad’ problem.” The audience ate it up!

We were not talking about leaving your child with a stranger. I wouldn’t leave mine alone with someone I was not completely comfortable with, man or woman. Furthermore, I wouldn’t leave my children alone with anyone THEY were not completely comfortable with.

But labeling a stay-at-home father “untrustworthy” simply because he’s a guy? That audience member I first mentioned was dead wrong in her belief that a dad cannot be deserving of trust simply because he has a penis.

2. Fathers can’t bond with children like mothers can

I hear SAHD myths like this all the time: Sure, dads can be great parents, but they can never have the same relationship with their children as mothers.

I don’t deny the hard work and heroic efforts women endure during pregnancy and childbirth. A sincere “thank you” to all mothers. You brought us dads the greatest gift in the world. (So stop with the ties on Father’s Day: they’re ugly and we don’t like them.)

But, ladies, the children are just as much ours as they are yours.

I felt a bond with my children the first time I laid eyes on them. My daughter was a daddy’s girl from day one, often to the exclusion of my wife. (Something that caused tears on more than one occasion.) These things ebb and flow, and Mommy is the favorite these days. Not, however, because of some bond that I was not privy to because I have a penis.

3. Stay-at-home dads are not nurturers

What? More gender stereotyping SAHD myths! I am physically unable to pick up my 2-year-old son without kissing and hugging (and usually tickling) him.

There are certainly times when he prefers his mom, but bedtime is Dad Time. When he knows he’s tired, he crawls into my arms. And when he’s tired, but does not know it, I can calm his screams and get him to fall asleep far quicker than my wife can. I think my scent soothes him. I know his scent soothes me.

Nurturing, it should be said, goes beyond all the hugs and kisses I give my kids. I nurture their spirit, confidence, education, and sense of fun (and sometimes mischief). People who don’t think stay-at-home dads nurture have not seen a stay-at-home dad in action.

4.  At-home fathers are trying to be better than moms.

Are dads better stay-at-home parents than moms? What a dumb, meaningless question. But that is what the talk show producers wanted us to argue. Dads are not better than moms. And moms are not better than us.

Parenting is not a competition!

I don’t work against my wife to raise our children; I work with her. That we parent differently is a benefit to our kids. They get the best of both worlds.

5. SAHDs are the only fathers worthy of attention

Stay-at-home dads are so hot right now! But we are still in the minority. Not only compared to stay-at-home moms, but compared to all the active and involved fathers who go to work (or work from home) every day and are co-equal parents every night. Why are they being ignored by the media?

Stay-at-home dads are at the forefront of the changing image of fathers, but working dads deserve our attention, too. Like working moms, they are trying to have it all and should be lauded for their efforts. It is not being done enough, so I’ll do it here. You guys are defeating the stereotype of the lazy, bumbling dad who doesn’t know his way around a diaper. Keep up the good work, at the office and at home.

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A version of SAHD myths was originally published by Time Ideas before it ran here in 2014. Photo by Juliane Liebermann on Unsplash.

This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Editor’s Note: The author of this post requested, and was granted, anonymity for this article to protect the identity of his family members. This post originally ran in 2018.

When I was a child and having one of my many disagreements with my mother, a retort from her would often be, “Wait until you’re a parent. Then you’ll understand.” Since becoming a dad myself several years ago, I’ve been thinking about that phrase a lot.

Like many contemporary dads, I am a different kind of parent than my father. Broadly speaking, I’m more present than he was in my childhood. The conventional wisdom is that social and cultural norms were different “back then.” We should cut, say a distant father, some slack because of this. Not me.

My father appeared to be a nice, gentle man. He never disciplined me, rarely even raised his voice. But then, I didn’t see much of him. He would leave the house for work before I woke. He would be back for dinner. He often worked weekends.

He never did the school drop-off or pickup routine. Never read me a bedtime story. Never came to a “parent’s evening” to meet my teachers or classmates’ mothers and fathers. He rarely spent time alone with me.

Now, as a father myself, I find this almost unthinkable.

A specific example of how little time my father and I spent together is this: I can count on one hand the movies my dad took me to see. On two fingers to be precise (ICYI: Bronco Billy and Airplane). I’ve been taking my daughter to see movies since she was 3 years old. I’ve lost count of how many hours we have shared together, side by side in a darkened theater.

To me, it boils down to this — I LOVE spending time with her, and sharing in those things she’s enthused about (like movies). My dad’s lack of this in my own childhood seemed at best lazy at the time. But it wasn’t simply that.

Distant father started as a prison dad

When I was a teenager, I discovered my father had been in prison (no one told me — I found some letters in the attic). He was incarcerated from when I was a baby until I was 4. He didn’t see me at all that entire time. In contrast, I spent this equivalent period with my daughter as a stay-at-home dad. When I think of the amazing time I spent with our daughter, the heartlessness of his subsequent decision to not spend time with me is amplified.

It gets worse.

Despite the prison time — for embezzlement — he somehow had a successful career as an office manager. He would often work late and on weekends. Ah, that explains why he spent so little time with me. He was too busy funding our house and home.

Nope. He was too busy having an affair.

An affair that began within a few years of him coming out of prison. An affair that lasted until I stumbled upon it when I was 19. He eventually co-owned the property she lived in. He was living a fantasy second life there, where he didn’t have a family to live with.

There’s a sucker punch. He took out his mortgage with her in my name.

This all came to light when I opened a piece of mail I thought was addressed to me (my father and I have the same first initial). The letter turned out to be about the property he owned with her. I still remember the sarcastic “thank you” he repeatedly directed at me while my mother screamed at him.

The full scale of his betrayal only came to light a few years ago, when he randomly blurted out a confession to my mother (they’re still together) while reacting to a melodramatic plot on a TV drama.

His sorry behavior is alien to me. Abhorrent. I’m supposed to dismiss this as “things were different back then”? No.

I haven’t confronted him about any of it — the lies, the betrayal, his lack of interest in my childhood. He has a heart condition, and I can’t trust myself to not explode at him. But I can barely stand to be around him, and I do my best to avoid speaking to him.

So I simply seethe with internal anger whenever I think of this whole sorry scenario. Fuck that guy. Never be that guy. Never be ANYTHING like that guy. You’re a good dad, I tell myself. That guy is an asshole.

Then I think about my daughter. My amazing daughter. Who I love and adore. And who will never – ever – have a father like that.

Photo: Trym Nilsen on Unsplash

Editor’s Note: We’ve been reviewing the 14 years of content compiled on this site to uncover some parenting pearls of wisdom that need to be rediscovered. This post about mastering certain parenting concepts was originally published in October 2010.

The recent at-home dads’ convention in Omaha, Neb., was chock full of content. One workshop inspired me the most, though — the feature presentation by Dr. Frank E. Bowers, a supervising psychologist at the Boys Town Behavioral Health Clinic, part of Boys Town Community Support Services in Nebraska, on “the most important job in the world,” fatherhood.

During Bower’s introduction, the audience was told we would “discover why the role of fatherhood is so critical to the success of our children and what we can do better at our job.” OK, you had me hooked!

This thought-provoking presentation revolved around the Top 10 Parenting Concepts to Remember. I will add that these concepts are just as appropriate for moms as well as dads. In fact, I would not be surprised if this passionate speaker, completes a similar inspirational presentation frequently to mothers groups.

Bowers describes the goal of parenting as “safe passage from birth to adulthood.”

So, let’s get down to the Top 10 Parenting Concepts:

1. Adult Think vs. Child Think

As parents, we need to constantly remind ourselves that we are talking to a child and they don’t think the same way we do. Their brains are not yet wired for the same logic we are. Set your behavioral expectations accordingly. Be a firm parent dad with a lot of structure.

2. Emotional Parenting (E-Line) vs. Purposeful Parenting (P-Line)

The aim here (without displaying the line graph) is that as parents we should work hard at hovering close to the “P” line — purposeful, powerful and proactive parenting — rather than hovering on the Emotional “E” line. This will result in a lot more “time in” with our kids than dealing with “time out.”

3. The Secret To Parenting…

The secret is to give our children what they want when they give you the behaviors you want. What do your children want the most? Your attention!

4. How We Learn?

A. Repetition – think about how you learned your multiplication tables.
B. Contrast – think 98.6 degrees vs. 350 degrees
Rule: The greater the contrast, the fewer repetitions needed.

The lesson from touching a hot stove (350 degrees) vs. touching another person (98.6 degrees) requires a lot less repetition to be learned. Therefore, you might have to keep telling your toddler to stop hitting other kids over and over again (lots of repetition). If you ever say to tell your child, “How many times do I have to tell you” … well, the answer is “at least one more time.”

5. Kids Want Structure

They won’t tell you this, but it helps tremendously.

6. Discipline is the Goal

Discipline helps create better behavior in the future. It is NOT punishment, which can be retroactive. Teaching self-discipline is key. For example, you cut your kid’s meat into small pieces so they can eat it with the hopes of modeling so one day they can cut their own food.

7. Set Them Up for Success

•  Provide adequate structure.
• Don’t “invite” them to lie. If you know they took a cookie from the jar, don’t ask them if they took the cookie when you already know the answer.
•  Make expectations developmentally appropriate.

8. Catch Them Being Good!

This one really resonated with me. We are constantly watching for negative behavior so we can pounce on it and correct it.  We should spend more time praising the behavior we want from our children. Therefore, give our kids more attention when acting appropriately than when doing something we disapprove of.

9. Be a Good Role Model

“A lesson is caught more than taught!” The example Bowers used was paying for a movie with your 13-year-old. If the price is lower for ages 12 and under and you tell your kids to say, “I am only 12” to save some cash, you are basically teaching your kid to cheat.

10. Enjoy Your Children

Every stage has its ups and downs.  At least I am on target with this concept — we are having a blast!

Some final food for thought:

• If you argue with your kids, you lose!  You bring yourself to a peer-to-peer level instead of parent-to-child dynamic.
• Sail on the high “SEAS” of parenting: consistent-sea (consistency) and persistent-sea (persistency)

You might think many of these concepts are common sense, but once you reflect a bit on your parenting style, there is plenty here to digest and improve upon. Now, I need to sign off and figure out how to parent closer to the “P” line so I don’t get so emotional and bent out of shape.

Photo: © anoushkatoronto / Adobe Stock.

At my house, we are preparing to break the spell over one of the first deceptions we perpetrated on our children. That is correct, we are bracing to break the news about The Santa Claus Lie.

It is a moment I feel a little apprehensive about. That moment when one or both of my kids ask us if Santa is real and expect a real answer from us.

I know I shouldn’t feel worried. This is a rite of passage most Western kids experience. I know because I did and I still love the Christmas season, and I had no hesitation perpetuating the myth when it was my turn to do so.

However, when I step back for a moment and look at what is happening I am encouraged. The story we told them as kids has turned into more of a mystery and less of a deception, just as it did for us all those years ago.

As it stands right now, when they broach the subject we respond with questions like: “Well, what do you think?” or “Who do you think ate the cookies you left?” We keep waiting to see where the line of questioning goes. Every time one of them asks, we’ve seen them probe a little further. Sometimes they pause and you can see their minds at work. Other times they begin to lay their case out with the clues they have amassed. Like when my youngest noticed that the wrapping paper Santa used matched the paper we had been using. Or when my oldest had to discount the validity of shopping mall Santas because there were just too many of them for them all to be real.

I remember putting the clues together and figuring it out long before I was ready to admit to my parents I knew about the Santa Claus Lie. There was a window of time when I knew what was true, but wasn’t ready to give up the magic. If my kids are there now I’m more than happy to let them hold on to that magic for as long as they want or need to.

For the time being it is a fascinating experience to watch their growing minds work. Sifting the evidence uncovering the clues. Their critical thinking skills work at a problem that they will eventually solve. When they discover the inconsistencies we let them ponder them, because a great mystery is fun to solve.

We don’t try to sell it anymore that time has long passed, it is a waiting game now. We play along as they play along, and soon (sooner than we are probably ready for), they will lay out their case and we will celebrate their discovery with them.

We will congratulate them on their thinking and reward them with the truth that the rest of us know. And with that welcome them into the next stage of life. We will find new ways to celebrate this holiday season together. Ways that don’t forget the myth that made Christmas Eve a magical part of our childhood, but that celebrate it in a new way with fond remembrance of our treasured youth.

A version of this post originally appeared on The Good Men Project. Photo: ©khosrork / Adobe Stock.

She had me. I knew it. She knew it. Her logical argument had cleverly rendered my previous protests moot. After trying my best to use logic and reason to persuade her, using each trick I could think of, even bribery, she still had me. Now, there was really nothing left to do but apologize, retreat and admit I was wrong.

I opened my mouth: Nope. Couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t relent and admit I was wrong and her argument stronger than mine. This wasn’t about a female beating a male. This wasn’t the manifestation of fragile pride and ego. This was something more.

This was a 6-year-old proving me wrong.

I suppose as a proud dad, I should be filled with pride when my 6-year-old daughter is able to successfully debate me, but I’m not. I find myself just man enough to admit I get a little petty when she is right and I’m wrong. I’m not particularly proud of this reality, but kids have a unique way of exposing our weaknesses and failures. When my daughter is able to reveal an unfair decision I’ve made, or successfully argue why she should be allowed to do something after I told her she couldn’t, my first instinct is to never give in. It’s innate. It feels compulsive. No matter how wrong I am, I struggle to admit I’m wrong.

I take some solace knowing I am not alone with this affliction. No one is eager to admit they are wrong, but the pervasive tendency to resist surrender, even once the argument has clearly been lost, has become a blight on polite society. How can we as parents tackle a failing of all humanity? All we have to do is something we currently do all the time: be wrong.

Wrong-headed about not ‘fessing up

Today my youngest, who still months away from being 3, woke up from her nap prematurely. I decided since she was awake, she should eat lunch with the rest of us. She resisted. In fact, she resisted so strongly, my wife immerged from her home office to ask me if I needed help. It was good timing. I had lost control of the situation, and I was even close to losing my temper. Why? Because I refused to accept an alternate view point. I refused to admit I was wrong.

It’s certainly not natural to let a 2-year-old be in charge. I’m a big believer that the parents are always in charge, but that doesn’t mean their decisions are always right. In this situation, it was foolish of me to try and force my daughter to eat after she woke up way too early from her nap. I’ve been doing this long enough to know how illogical that is, but it didn’t matter. I said eat. She should eat. And so we went to war. She, pushing her plate of food away. Me, grabbing the plate and slamming it back down in front of her shouting, “Eat!” Yeah … real pro parenting move there. All I had to do was pause, think about the situation, and admit I was wrong.

Parents aren’t good at admitting they are wrong, but I think it’s something we need to do more often. I wonder the long term, cumulative effect of parents raising children in homes where those who are wrong admit they are wrong. Imagine if kids were raised to relent in the face of reason, wisdom and facts? How pliable would minds become? Would dogma be defeated? Maybe indoctrination would become less prevalent? Would weak minds and shallow arguments grow silent? 

We can hope.

The counterintuitive ideas are often hard to accept, but the quest to be right can only be satisfied once someone has the courage to admit they are wrong. You can trust me, because I’m wrong a lot.

Well, except this time. This time, I’m completely right.

Photo: © marinzolich / Adobe Stock.

Like most parents, I aim to be truthful with my kids. Truth and honesty are fundamental values in society, and obvious bedrocks for children. But what should one do with the truth about Santa Claus?

When my son entered the “why” phase around age 3, I started overloading him with facts. This was the easiest way to deal with a barrage of unending questions. When he found our wine cork screw I told him quite truthfully that his mom and dad sometimes enjoy drinking rotten grapes. We put rotten grapes in special bottles that have a special opener. All true. He’s convinced grownups are weird. Maybe he’s right.

By the time he turned 5, the whys most clearly articulated themselves before the daily drop offs at kindergarten. One day he began with the age-old, “Why is the sky blue?” and “Why can I see the moon in day?” Both have simple answers, but to stem the flow I decided to go rather detailed in my explanation of astrophysics, ending with gravitational theory and temporal mechanics. I’d just started to touch on string theory when he climbed out, and needless to say, he’d stopped asking questions. Nothing I said was false. Truths all the way.

Yet, the holiday season begs a big question. Is it sometimes OK to lie especially when it comes to the truth about Santa?

Like many parents, I’ve been talking a lot about a fat man in red who’s supposedly monitoring my kids 24/7, judging whether they’re naughty or nice, making them gifts, and planning to break into our house sometime after they go to sleep on Christmas Eve. It’s a weird lie, one some experts say is damaging to children in the long run. And forget overloading the kids with truth on this one because the more the kid digs, the more parents scramble to keep the “magic” alive.

Before the whys, I used to walk through the forest with my son, pointing out dragon tracks and spots where they lay eggs. We used to search for the footprints of giants and the remnants of ogres. As a fantasy author, I’ve no qualms blending magic and reality in order to encourage imagination. Yet, by the time my son reached his fifth birthday, he started asking point blank which things were real and which weren’t. I did my best to explain the concept of myths and fantasy. He now realizes dragons and Pokemon are fiction (a year earlier he’d been convinced the Pokemon went extinct during the same event that ended the dinosaurs). However, he still enjoys pretending to hunt for them.

Why then, am I so reluctant to puncture the Santa myth? Why am I getting money ready from the Tooth Fairy? Why am I hiding Easter baskets, supposedly to be delivered by a giant bunny?

I recall believing quite fervently in Santa as a kid. Then one year my parents packed the car to visit my grandparents in New York. On the top of our station wagon were several long parcels, rather “ski shaped” for lack of a better term. And that year, Santa just happened to give us skis. Yup, that’s when I learned the truth about Santa. It’s a sort of rite of passage in our culture, like learning to drive. And for a long time, that was that. Santa was fake, my parents lied, and I was past that phase.

Then I had kids of my own. All the holidays took on new meanings. Holidays as a parent are a chance to relive that magic, and watch that excitement in your children’s eyes. My wife and I talked about Santa. Did we want to go along with the communal lie? Did we want to tell him early on? And what would that do to his friends? If we drew back the veil on Santa for our son, would he then tell all the other kids? Were we robbing others of happiness? Of that innocence? What would we really gain from the truth in this case?

We’ve seen constant crises these past few years: a global pandemic, climate change, political upheaval, racial reckonings and more. We’ve also seen the power of misinformation. We’ve seen that when different parties can’t agree on simple truths that society suffers. Are we setting our kids up to continue this struggle by perpetuating this false Santa narrative, one we know to be untrue?

I don’t have any answers. Yet, my gut tells me maybe it is OK to lie. Childhood is a magical time. A time where the world is good, and a magical fat guy really will reward you for good behavior. Where losing a tooth means a fairy will sneak under your pillow, or a bunny will leave you chocolate. It’s a time where the dragons in the forest, and even the Pokemon, are still alive, just hiding. My daughter, who is a bit younger and hasn’t asked about myths, has been encouraged to look up for flying dragons. I’ll let those dragons hide. Let’s allow them to be real.

The truth about Santa will come out and the magic will fade, as it always does. That doesn’t give the magic any less worth.

Photo: © deagreez / Adobe Stock.

I had many jobs before a got married and become a dad. One of the more interesting ones involved working at a pawn shop during college. Back then, at the age of 21, I had no idea how much the job of pawnbroker would prepare me for the job of parenting.

To start with, the pawn shop taught me was how to spot a liar. A liar will tell you his item works perfectly while pieces of it are literally falling off as he speaks. A child will tell you he isn’t responsible for the green footprints on the floor even though he just so happens to have green paint all over his hands … and cheeks … and feet. Pawn customers will swear the mini fridge they’re trying to sell belongs to them, even though it has the words “Rent-A-Center” written in marker on every side. A child will promise she didn’t sneak a bite of cake even though there’s icing on her nose and chin.

Working at a pawn shop also taught me how to give lowball offers. For example, I would offer a customer $15 for a TV worth $60. In the same way, I would tell my kids if they pick up 175 pine cones from our yard, I’ll give them $1.75. This experience in giving lowball offers led to the skill I learned to use the most in parenting – negotiation.

Before becoming a parent, I had no idea how much of my day I’d spend in the art of negotiation. How much dinner has to be eaten, when bedtime is, whether to buy gum at the store, time allowed on iPads at home, how long friends can stay over … it all involves negotiation.

I guess all those weekend shifts wearing my denim shirt and tie eventually paid off.

A version of this post first appeared on Indy’s Child. Photo: © paul crudgington/EyeEm / Adobe Stock.

So much of my parenting style centers on a delicate balance of fact versus fiction when explaining concepts, ideas, thoughts, feelings – just about anything – to my children.

Example 1: “Dad, why is Mommy sad?” 

Fact: Daddy was a big jerk to Mommy after she had a tough day at the office.

Fiction: “Mommy’s not sad, sweetie, just tired today.”

Example 2: “Dad, why is my teacher so mean?” 

Fact: Ms. Smith is a lonely, unhappy soul whose only friends are her 12 cats.

Fiction: “Ms. Smith isn’t mean. Like her or not, she’s the boss in class so you must figure out how to work with her.”

And the ultimate, fact/fiction question parents will face during the holidays:

Example 3: “Dad, is Santa real?”

When answering these questions from my kids, fact and fiction are never at an equilibrium – EVER. Some situations require more facts, some none.  With Example 1 above, I’d err on the side of fact. On Number 2, I’d go with a more fictional slant on the truth.

The Santa questions? I go with HEAVY fiction at varying levels based on age of child. The younger the kid, the higher chance of nonsensical fiction.

Just when I think I have this fact versus fiction concept mastered, a global pandemic has me fielding queries from my children that I never could have dreamed of. I have to find answers to questions that I do not know, have not thought about, and, worse, provide responses that do not adversely impact their health.

The COVID-related issues they worry about lie in the new realities they are facing. They wonder about important, deep COVID-related issues like why a friend’s grandparent has passed. I field questions about why they can’t have a birthday party this year. My youngest kids actively wonder what their teacher’s face looks like.

Suddenly, I find myself struggling with my fact/fiction balance. How many facts do my kids require about COVID and their relative safety from it? These questions, in fact, have not taken a holiday break. They’ve actually gotten even more intricate.

My daughter’s latest query: Will Santa get COVID?

She was genuinely worried, so my fact versus fiction had to be on point. I called in the big guy himself to deliver the facts – thinking the jolliest of all holiday season characters might be able to take the edge off sobering realities of Christmas 2020:

Dear Emersyn,

Thank you for writing me. Like many other good boys and girls around the world, your concern for my health during this unsettling year warms my heart. There is no greater display of the Christmas Spirit than caring for the people you love. 

I’m happy to report that Mrs. Claus, the elves, the reindeer, and I are healthy and safely readying for Christmas. This year, in fact, shows me just how very important Christmas is. 

At the North Pole, we feel the energy of the world – your happiness and, yes, sorrow, too. During most years, the smiles and good cheer sent our way is as plentiful as the marshmallows in my hot cocoa, or as the cookie crumbs stuck to my red suit on Christmas Eve (don’t tell Mrs. Claus – I’m supposed to be on a diet).

This year is different. There is more sadness now. But that does not mean there is not as much happiness.

You and I are healthy, but some of our neighbors are not. My elves and I still have our important jobs to tend to, but many workers around you have fallen on hard times. You’ve noticed that seeing your friend’s smile is difficult behind masks. You may have relatives who did not survive a tussle with this awful COVID virus. 

These are the people I think about as I prepare to take flight with my reindeer in a few days. There are no more powerful forces than hope, spirit and faith – and no better symbol of them than Christmas. 

Rest safely knowing that I am well and ready to deliver the best Christmas EVER. Maybe it is time for the North Pole to share some of the emboldening Christmas spirit that we’ve enjoyed taking in for so many years from you.

See you very soon.

Love,

Santa Claus

PS: Please leave cookies for me and celery for the reindeer (but, if Mrs. Claus asks, we’ll say the opposite)

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This exercise has reintroduced me to something I’d forgotten – talking to my kids is not about the quality of content I present or the fidelity of the stories I tell them. It is about the comfort they feel with my answer. My mastery of the fact versus fiction of parenting explanations, alas, pales in comparison to the smile I can earn from the use of either.

Photo: © Brastock Images / Adobe Stock.

Hey, my teenage sons — it’s time for your old man to give you a little more unwanted advice. I know the two of you are soon to start your sophomore year of high school and don’t really care for “words of wisdom” and that sort of crap; I can dig that. I also know that you are built on strong moral and intellectual foundations – cool. You are trusted and respected by the adults around you and in your peer group – well done. However …

You have been thrown into the most manic of maelstroms and the weirdest of worlds teenagers have faced in a very long time. Nothing is even close to the way it was just six months ago. Your school, your friends, your teachers will all be literally unrecognizable. There will be plexiglass everywhere, checkpoints, masks and distancing. There will be fear and anxiety in the air. Folks will be testy and it’s not gonna be a lot of fun, although you have the character to make the best of it. I think. Honestly, it’s all going to seem really unfair.

Unfairnesses, plural, are what’s being thrown at you. You know I’d take them if I could, every rotten tyrannical tomato and caustic cabbage and raunchy raw egg, but I can’t. I’m afraid it’s your turn to duck. But I’d like to help, so I’m going to tell a probably pointless story.

I knew a girl in college, the girlfriend of a very close friend of mine. She was nice, a little aloof, pretty, and very focused on her dream of becoming an actor. I got to know her well enough. We had classes and did shows together. I was around her a lot and, by the third year of school, we were fairly close. That summer we ended up in a crowd that played a lot of euchre, the card game we still play regularly. Almost every free night we had was cards and beers and music and … well, you get the picture.

And that’s when I started to notice that, well, she cheated.

Euchre is pretty easy to cheat at, especially if you can count cards, which is made even easier because you only use half the deck in the game. I’d watch carefully and see her check the bottom card, shift cards in the deck, and even move clearly ear-marked cards into her hand as she dealt. I saw that she like to pick her chair, sometimes adamant about it, and came to realize that she wanted to be next to someone who didn’t protect their cards from the eyes of others.

I didn’t call her on it. I knew that would be drama fodder for her. So, I just made sure I never sat next to her, and if I partnered with her, I played poorly. And, I knew I couldn’t trust her.

She went on to grad school I think, and we lost track of each other years ago. Recently, I reconnected with another friend from those days and we got to talking about the old times and the gang we hung with, as one does, and the cheating girlfriend came up. I said that it always bothered me that she cheated at cards and never felt I could trust her. She laughed and told me she cheated at and on everything. Tests, papers, boyfriends, friends, taxes, husbands, bosses, coworkers, games – everything.

I wasn’t terribly surprised, but I did wonder aloud why she was like that. My friend said, quite simply, that she chose it. Apparently, she’d been a good and honest girl all the way until she got to high school. Then she lost a brother in Vietnam. Her parents divorced. A dog died. All sorts of unfairnesses plagued her and, she decided if life was going to be so cruel and arbitrary, she’d stop playing fair. She made a decision to change her life for, well, the worse.

Forgivable? That’s your call, but I don’t think so.

So, what’s my point here?

Don’t cheat, that’s all.

I know, I know, you are both not wired that way. I’ve seen both of you actively not cheat: calling your own foul ball in a baseball game, telling the ref the ball was out on you on the soccer pitch, realizing you’d seen another’s hand in a card game.

Here’s the problem, boys, you’re going to see some folks cheating this year. With the mix of half in school and half online learning the stage is set for it. I’ve seen article after article on the problem in magazines and online in the past few weeks. And, to make matters worse, you’re going to see a lot of kids justify it by saying if life can be this unfair, why should I care if I cheat? Why does it even matter?

One word. See if you can get it from its definition: The quality of being honest and having strong moral principles; moral uprightness.

Correct: integrity.

People see integrity in others, I guarantee it. I see integrity in you.

You will, also, see the lack of it in others for the whole of your lives. In swampy politics, sketchy business models, even in salacious, pointless entertainment shows and a broken music scene. People are dishonest, people cheat, people use others and disregard resources and do not follow rules (I am looking at you anti-maskers). For the honest among us, that hurts and, worse, tempts us toward the same devious chicanery we see others blithely get away with.

I see the potential for this year challenging your integrity. I don’t know how to tell you to defend it, but I know you need to try. Defending it will ask for courage, decency, honor and truth in a world that devalues all those values.

Good luck and come to us when you are struggling, I was a bartender for 30 years and have some stories to tell about cheats and frauds and how things worked out for them — honestly, it never well. I’ve also seen the best people lead the best lives because they protected themselves and their souls — that place where integrity lives.

C.S. Lewis said: “Integrity is doing the right thing, even when no one is watching.”

I say it all the time: Just do the next right thing. That’s always what you need to do. And sometimes, that is a very difficult call. I know you’re up for it, and I think your generation is as well.

***

Advice is hard … Here, this one’s easier and succinct: Don’t fry bacon naked. You’ll thank me for that someday.

Peace boys, it’s a tough time to be 15. I’m truly sorry for that.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bill Peebles left a 30-year career in the restaurant business to become a stay-at-home dad to twin boys. He writes a blog, I Hope I Win a Toaster, that makes little sense. He coaches sometimes, volunteers at the schools, plays guitar, and is a damn good homemaker. He believes in hope, dreams, and love … but not computers.

Photo: © Zoran Zeremski / Adobe Stock.

No matter how hard you stress the importance of honesty, kids will still lie. It’s human nature.

My kid isn’t even 3 and I’ve already seen it happening. I’m not always sure that’s he truly lying about not having pooped or if he’s just so used to having poop in his pants that he can’t tell the difference, but sometimes he’s lying about it. Because he doesn’t want his diaper changed. Because he’s gross. But I digress.

Dealing with lying children is part of being a parent. I knew that going in, and I’m ready for it.

But I didn’t know how much lying I’d be doing.

Pro tip: Kids will believe anything. Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Jesus, democracy. They’ll buy it all, especially if a parent is selling it. And now that I’m dealing with an increasingly curious and willful toddler, my house is like Amazon. I’m selling more BS than any politician.

Let’s be clear. I am not lying to my kid about anything significant or in an attempt to pervert his worldview. No sinister reasons like that. I’m lying to my son purely as a matter of convenience, also known as: the reason for 90 percent of all parenting decisions.

Kids are such a pain so much of the time that when you have an opportunity to make things even a little bit easier for yourself, you’ve got to take it. Sure, maybe lying to my son all the time will backfire and result in a dishonest person who eventually becomes president of the United States, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

So yeah, I lie to my son. And I’ll keep lying. Especially when he asks me why I drink so much because screaming “YOU!” in his face isn’t appropriate.

Once my kid started talking, he hasn’t stopped asking questions. There is just nothing easy about satisfying a toddler’s curiosity. Why? Because they often can’t understand factual explanations and because they just enjoy being annoying and asking annoying questions and annoyingly annoying you in the most annoying way possible. So lying becomes a necessity for parents, both because you don’t always know the factual explanations and because FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SHUT UP!

Lying by example

Example 1: If we’re trying to get the kid to nap or go to sleep, we’ll tell him we’re going to bed, too! Even if it’s barely 8 p.m. And by “going to bed,” we mean “having three martinis and passing out when Stephen Colbert gets to the interview.” But he doesn’t need to know that because he needs to go to sleep. BBy any means necessary.

Example 2: If we’re trying to get out of the house and he refuses to leave because he can’t find his little stuffed dog, we’ll tell him the dog went out for a walk and that it would be home when he got back because the little moron doesn’t understand that stuffed animals are inanimate objects, and get your shoes on dammit, we’re going to be late!

Example 3: If he’s acting like a twerp and it’s at least relatively close to Christmas, we’ll tell him Santa is going to drop a grenade down the chimney instead of any presents so GET DOWN OFF THE FURNITURE AND EAT YOUR DINNER!

Obviously, none of those things are true. I’m not even sure we have a martini shaker (of course we do —  have you met my wife?). But those lies, or things like them, can be effective. There’s an entire industry built around lying during the Christmas season, with Santa’s list and “Elf on the Shelf” and virgin births and all that jazz. Because when it comes to manipulating children, lying is effective, at least in the short term. Which is usually all you need.

The trouble comes later, when the kid somehow remembers one of those lies. You’re stuck having to explain that you and mommy aren’t actually professional wrestlers like those guys on TV. And, no, you were just wrestling that one morning and, hey, look over there, your stuffed dog came back!

Sucker.

A version of this first appeared on Dad and Buried. Photo: © ruigsantos / Adobe Stock.