We were deep into a tickling session. My daughter, who is months away from being 3, had fully surrendered. Uncontrollable belly laughs. You know the type. There’s nothing quite like the innocent joy of a kid giggling from a tickled belly.

She was squirming and fighting, pushing my hand from her belly. So I went for her neck. She laughed more. I switched to her armpit. I was laughing. She was laughing. It was a beautiful daddy-daughter moment. After fits of giggles and screams, she said, “Stop, stop, stop.”

Game over.

I know she didn’t mean it. I knew shortly after she would ask me to tickle her again. But for her entire life, anytime I’ve touched her, as a game, or to change her clothes, or any other random reason, any time she says “stop,” I stop. Always.

Lessons in respect, consent from #MeToo movement

I wasn’t as aware of these moments with my first daughter. It was maybe five years ago, a couple years into her life, when the whole #MeToo movement went viral. Like most generic males, I was a bit skeptical. I was more prone to roll my eyes and shrug it off as a typical social media cause. Just a whole lot of noise and not a lot of substance.

Then women I knew started sharing their stories. Women way too close to me. Women who were strong and confident. Women I never imagined could ever be a victim. My typical sluggish and dense male mind began to open and accept reality.

The next time I was tickling my daughter, we had the same moment we always had. She was laughing. She said no. I didn’t stop. She said no again. I didn’t stop. “Daddy!” And I stopped. She looked at me.

“I really wanted you to stop that time,” she said. Flippantly, I replied, “OK, OK. No big deal.”

It took me a moment to realize it was a big deal.

From that moment forward, my policy was no means no. It didn’t matter what it was. If she said “no” in regard to me touching her, I stopped. Always.

When my son was born, I did the same. Boy or girl. Playing or not playing. No means no. The more I listened to their requests, the more it became clear how often I ignored their requests.

Teach ‘no means no‘ early for better people later

My hope is that I’m modeling a couple different things. First, I want it to be clear to my children that adults they love and trust will stop when they say stop. There’s no ambiguity there. I want them to know they have full agency of their bodies. Second, I want my children to see me respecting the boundaries they set for their own bodies. In this way, I hope they will learn they have control to give and deny consent over their bodies. Any adult who doesn’t respect that is an adult they don’t need in their lives. As they get older, I hope they grow to be adults who respect their partners and their peers in the same way.

I’m not suggesting all those fun moments with my kids are nefarious or damaging. I’m certain I’m traumatizing them in many other ways I’ve yet to perceive, but in this small way of respecting the playful “no,” I’m hoping I’m preparing them to respect the serious “No.”

I know the initial reaction to something like this may be a skeptical one. It’s hard to hear things we do in innocence could ever be distorted into something damaging, but our discomfort is no excuse for apathy. If we want a better world, we need to thoughtfully raise better people. I’ve written in the past about how small tweaks to our behavior can have massive benefits, and I believe this is another example.

I feel it important to note that if I tell my kids to go to bed, eat their dinner, or cease assaulting their siblings, and they say “no,” ain’t nobody respecting that “no.” Parents have boundaries, too.

The good news is we still have epic tickle fights, and the disruption to a solid belly tickle session is minor. There’s also another benefit to proactively working to limit our kid’s future emotional baggage: their therapists will have to work a little extra harder to find things to blame us for. There’s value in that.

‘No means no’ photo: ©Prostock-studio / Adobe Stock.

The #MeToo movement has been a game-changer in the world of entertainment, politics and business. But how can parents make it one in everyday life while raising children? And how can men participate without being accused of the dreaded “mansplaining” or fear of causing more harm than good, no matter their intentions.

On the latest Modern Dads Podcast, guest host Whit Honea speaks with two powerful voices on parents’ roles in the #MeToo movement: Karen Walrond and Mike Reynolds.

+ Listen to our #MeToo parenting podcast +

Walrond is an author, photographer, speaker and coach. The Houston resident is the creative mind behind Chookooloonks, an award-winning lifestyle, travel, inspiration and photography website. It has received multiple honors from blogging peers in its 14 years of existence.

Walrond is also a best-selling author and has contributed photographs and essays to books on faith and self-expression, and a popular speaker on topics such as self-empowerment, creativity and innovation. She has appeared in national media including PBS, Huffington Post, CNN.com and The Oprah Winfrey Show, and was named one of YWCA-Houston’s 2016 Outstanding Women of the Year.

Reynolds, a father of two daughter from Canada, is the author of the Puzzling Posts parenting blog. He started Everyday Girl Dad, a website that sells T-shirts and crossstitching patterns with pro-daughter, pro-feminist messages.

The stories are everywhere — women (and a few men) speaking their truth to abusive male power as the #MeToo movement rolls on. As the parent of two teen daughters, I am glad much light and sound are finally being shed on this topic. But it remains challenging to talk about at home in ways that balance how to promote healthy romantic relationships and avoid toxic ones. The one word I keep coming back to? Boundaries.

As my wife and I discuss with our daughters the ongoing media stories about sexual misconduct, we try to focus on the need for self-boundaries — e.g., physical, emotional and moral. This starts at a young age when all parents teach their children about “private” body boundaries that no one should violate. But as children become tweens and teens, teaching them how to establish and maintain healthy but invisible boundaries can be more challenging. For example, girls are often socialized to be people-pleasers, so even the strength to say “maybe” or “no” instead of “yes” to various social requests needs to be nurtured.

The issue of consent is especially tricky for girls when it comes to romantic relationships. Popular culture romanticizes a borderless self. All those “I’m Nothing Without You” songs make me wretch because they foster dangerous self-talk, particularly for girls. No one’s self-worth should depend on another person. Much to my daughters’ chagrin, when we hear pop love songs together I often voice semi-humorous objections. In a recent example, Ellie Goulding’s “Love Me Like You Do” asked “What are you waiting for?” I hollered: “Consent! He should be waiting for clear consent.” Cue my daughters’ eyerolls, but at least they’ll remember the advice.

As a former English professor, I once gave similar advice about consent by revising a phrase from Robert Frost’s poem titled “Mending Wall,” in which the speaker says, “Good fences make good neighbors.” My version was “Good fences make good selves,” but I’m not sure it registered as well with my daughters.

Whatever ways you can foster your teens’ healthy boundaries and self-talk, I encourage you to do so. Girls, for example, should beware of being put on a pedestal in public but belittled in private. Any disrespect or boundary violation by a mate is an early sign of an unhealthy relationship. The rise of social media has further complicated teens’ ability to maintain a sense of privacy. But they should be reminded that “only fools rush in” to any new romance (or app), and it is fine to “undershare” in the early stages of a relationship, despite what their peers or suitors may say.

Start talk about boundaries early

In lighter moments, I reflect on the first time I discussed dating and romance with my daughters. When my oldest daughter Lauren turned 9, she asked me what an actual “date” means. We were in the car, so I glanced at her in the rearview mirror and reviewed what dating means (and the fact that it was for kids much older than herself). Then I explained that parents are usually OK with their teenagers dating, but they would like their children to get to know themselves before getting serious with someone.

She replied, “What do you mean? I know who I am. I’m Lauren.”

I tried a different tack.

I asked her, “What do you not like to do?” She thought for a moment and said to my surprise, “Play tennis.” I followed by explaining that if that’s true but Johnny Wonderful insists that she love to play tennis or he’ll break up with her, she should stay true to herself and demand respect. She could try to work things out but should never sacrifice her sense of self.

After a moment, she said with a smile, “Dad, you probably thought I’d be older when I asked you these questions, didn’t you? Usually adult stories are boring, but not these ones.” If only such stories could stay boring into her mid-20s.

Men — especially dads — have to change what we frown upon. We have to accept that sexual misconduct hurts us all, much like secondhand smoke affects the air we all breathe.

It has been said that when women discuss a problem with men, they are often looking for emotional support, not help with a solution. But when it comes to the sexual misconduct issue ricocheting through our culture, that notion is mistaken. Women are doing their share to fix the issue by courageously raising more awareness, reporting more abuses, and demanding more consequences. It is time for more men to join the fight and actively help shift the culture’s attitudes about sexual harassment.

Fathers of both daughters and sons are key to this revolution in awareness since the problem is pervasive and intergenerational. Even if I didn’t have two teen daughters close to entering the adult world (and probably male-dominated professions), I would find the recent news cycle alarming. We obviously need a sea change of understanding when it comes to sexual misconduct. In our homes, we can start by making extra efforts with our sons and daughters to discuss personal boundaries, consent, responsibility, and the differences between acceptable courtship and sexual harassment. We can also model healthy relationships with the women in our lives — both privately and publicly.

Given the breathless pace of new allegations, the sexual misconduct issue could almost be called a public health emergency. Such a crisis calls for society-wide change through a combination of awareness-raising, law creation and enforcement, and most importantly, a shift in our moral thinking. The analogies are flawed, but in my desperation I think back to the times when smoking was cool and seat belt use was frowned upon. Thanks to decades of social change, those ideas are no longer part of most people’s consciousness.

We need similar but even more soul-shaking, cross-generational work to gradually shift the norms of our thinking when it comes to sexual misconduct. Men — especially dads — have to change what we frown upon. We need to police each other, even when that becomes uncomfortable. We have to keep talking and not let the issue fade into a different media cycle. We have to accept that sexual misconduct hurts us all, much like secondhand smoke affects the air we all breathe.

Share the burden of fixing ‘toxic masculinity’

We also have to admit it’s not fair to sit back and listen to women’s accounts of sexual misconduct without helping fix the problem now and in the future. Although many men are not guilty of “toxic masculinity,” it is not fair to place all the burden for fixing it on superheroic femininity.

Avoiding harassment should not be considered only a “female” issue. Girls and women should not be blamed if they do not wear the right clothes, say the right things, report the right offenses promptly and with detailed supporting evidence, etc. While false accusations and due process are components of this issue, the burden of avoiding harassment should be shared by boys and men.

Granted, some generations of men grew up with different norms that are now problematic. Whatever our past, however, we need to be part of the solution. Fortunately, many men and boys are already practicing a much healthier masculinity, but we need to keep the pressure on each other. Keep talking to your children, especially your sons; I’ll keep talking to my daughters. Let’s be the last generation that hears (or tells) the joke about a dad needing a bat to protect his daughters once they become teenagers. Let’s make the bat unnecessary. Better yet, let’s make it unthinkable.

My 15-year-old daughter had her first experience with a new species over the weekend: The North American Drunken Asshole.

I wasn’t present for the encounter, which was probably a good thing. My girl was visiting her mom in San Diego for the weekend, a couple hours south. Here’s the situation:

They were out for an evening stroll in a funky-but-fun beach neighborhood, a place they’ve been many times. They’d just emerged from a restaurant, and were just enjoying the fresh, salt-tinged evening air. As they walked down the block, they passed a group of young guys. I’m told they looked like they were in their early 20s: sorta gangly, backwards baseball caps, slouchy, scruffy. Plus drunk.

After Riley and her mom had passed the group, one of the guys called out to my daughter. It started out as simply, “Hey!,” which my daughter ignored. She actually had no idea the dude was even talking to her.

But after the third semi-slurry “Hey!,” it became clear she was the one in the guy’s scope.

What he said next wasn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been. I’ll give him that.

Catcalls from the beast

The dude shouted at my daughter, yelling, “Oh, fuck. You’ve got a total hot Hermione thing going on, and I FUCKING LOVE IT!”

All things considered, I know Harry Potter-centric catcalls are pretty tame, compared to the sorts of things jerks normally say when they yell at girls. It was aggressive, yet vaguely nerdy. A fine line. But it really freaked my daughter out.

Riley is 15. She’s a beautiful young woman. And more than a few people have told her that she bears a striking resemblance to Harry Potter‘s Emma Watson, who is herself an intelligent, beautiful, and classy human. In some other context, it would be a compliment.

But in this situation, it was unwanted, unsolicited attention that scared my girl. A random, loud, drunk dude noticed her, and felt it was totally appropriate to yell at her. And she didn’t know what to do.

Maybe Drunk Doofus thought he was simply offering her a compliment, nothing more. Maybe it didn’t occur to him that he might’ve freaked her out. It’s possible he thought she was older than 15. Not that any of that makes catcalls OK.

Or maybe he was one of those assholes who likes to make women feel uncomfortable and intimidated.

The meltdown

After they got home, Riley had a minor meltdown about the whole experience. This was the first time she’d experienced this sort of adult male behavior. What made things worse is that she’d dressed up for their evening out, putting on makeup (which she rarely uses) and nicer clothing that her usual T-shirt and jeans. She was feeling confident, attractive and grown up. Then this guy came along and made her feel self-conscious, embarrassed and vulnerable.

She and her mom had a long talk about it. I don’t know the details, but Riley felt better afterward. I heard about it from her mom over the phone, and then I got the full version when Riley came back home after the weekend. As I listened to the story, I tried to avoid wigging out myself. I DO NOT LIKE the idea of some random drunk doofus yelling at my daughter and making her feel afraid. I DO NOT LIKE the idea of any man doing that to any woman and making her feel that way. (I don’t like the idea of any human making any other human feel uncomfortable in such fashion, frankly — but we can probably all agree that when we do see it happening, it’s most common for the remark to go from a man to a woman. So I’m currently focused on that.)

The breakdown

As Riley told me the story, some of the rapid-fire observations she made about it were:

1. I’m never going to dress nicely in public again.
2. That guy wouldn’t have said anything if I’d been with you, Dad, instead of Mom. That’s lame in itself.
3. I know he was acting that way because he was drunk. But that just makes it scarier.
4. Guys are pretty much jerks when they drink. And also sometimes when they’re not.
5. I’m not going to be grateful that the guy didn’t say something dirty or nasty. It was still not cool.
6. OK, maybe I won’t let that stop me from dressing up again in public. But I don’t know what to do if it happens again.

I did my best to break it down with her, point by point:

1. My girl, you have the right to dress any way you want. I know it’s hard to embrace such a concept after an encounter like this, but remember that no one else should ever have a say in what you do or wear to feel confident, strong or capable.

2. Yes, it’s grossly unfair, but you’re probably right. If you’d been with me, the dude may not have felt as comfortable lobbing out his comment. Young guys get a lot less ballsy when there’s an older male around who resembles their dad. Much less the courage to say and do dumb shit, even drunk. This is why I would prefer to be your bodyguard everywhere you go for the rest of life. But sadly for us both, that’s not how things work.

3. Sounds like he was drunk indeed. Or on the way to drunk. As you get older, you’re going to see more people, male and female, exhibiting silly, obnoxious, abrasive behavior thanks to the wonders of alcohol. What a great way to learn the value of moderation when it comes to our own substance intake.

4.  Yes. Guys can be jerks when they drink. I have to point out that girls can, too. I know you know that. When people are drunk, their filters go on the fritz. That internal barometer that dings right before they do or say something stupid usually malfunctions. But I agree that this is worse. It’s worse because drunk guys in particular can be especially scary. Let’s agree to steer clear of those guys.

5. I completely agree. Just because the guy didn’t make a nasty, anatomically focused remark doesn’t change the fact he made you feel intimidated. And you shouldn’t simply sit back and “take it as a compliment,” just because what he said wasn’t gross. If he’d wanted to actually present you with a respectful compliment about being an attractive human, he would’ve done so differently. That wasn’t his goal. His goal was to own a moment with bravado, to prove that he gets to yell shit at anyone, whenever he feels like it, because that oh-so-important Y chromosome gives him the right to do so. Which is utter crap, of course. It is not OK for men to do that to women.

6. As for what to do if it happens again? Hmm. My girl, I hate to say this, but odds are good that it’s probably going to happen again, sometime, somewhere. If you ask any woman, you’ll learn that she’s probably also had this experience, to some degree or another. She will understand what it means to feel uncomfortable, exposed, unfairly targeted.

Catcalls in the future

Sweetheart, I know what I want to say. I want to say that if someone drunk guy catcalls you again as you walk by, you should turn around, walk right up to him, look him in the eye and tell him to shut the fuck up. See, many guys are all kinds of courageous when they’re not being confronted. And they usually don’t expect a woman to go eye to eye with them and call them on shit like that. They like it better when they see they’ve intimidated her. So a big part of me wants you to be the crusader who goes up to that guy and tells him to knock it the hell off.

And part of me is afraid that if you provoke a guy who’s being fueled by drunk bravado, it’ll result in a much more nightmarish scene that scares me too much to think about. That’s the part of me that wants to go with you to college and live next door to you until you graduate.

In the end, I didn’t have a lot of awesome advice for her about catcalls, other than to hold her head up high, be confident, and have enough strength to ignore the drunk doofuses of the world who get off on intimidating women. I told her she’s strong, she’s cool, and she deserves to be respected. I told that it’s a fight worth fighting, and I’ll have her back all the way.

I hope that’ll be enough.