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.

“No left foot!”

I screamed as the minivan slammed to a stop.

Deep breath, I told myself, and faced my son. Yosef’s bright, toothy smile kept hidden the fear and uncertainty evidenced by his death-grip on the minivan’s steering wheel.

“Sorry for yelling, man. I’m just a bit nervous – like you,” I chuckled and continued. “Let’s start from the beginning before we go any farther.”

I’m teaching driving to my son. Only a few days before this abrupt stop in a parking lot of a local church, Yosef had passed his written driving exam and, at least by local standards, was ready to get behind the wheel. In this moment, and as he posed for the picture with the plastic encased learner’s permit, I faced a haunting realization that my son is becoming a grown up.

To distract myself from the epiphany of being old enough to have a child behind the wheel, I dove deep into teaching driving to my son. I quickly learned, though, I had taken a lot for granted.

Teaching driving lesson No. 1: Right foot only

Driving may be the only activity reserved exclusively for right-footed people. My son, though, is a leftie. I shouldn’t have been surprised when he eased off the brake with his dominant foot while depressing the accelerator with his right.

How does a kid NOT know to drive with the right foot only?

Take note – they have no idea about the kinetics of driving.

Lesson No. 2: Heed the mirrors

Mirrors, like the folded paper maps of road trips past, have become meaningless to today’s kids.

If they want to check out the back of their hair, they take a picture on their phone. During our practice session, when I asked Yosef to check the van’s driver’s side, he stuck his head out of the window – Ace Ventura style.

Checking mirrors eventually becomes subconscious to drivers. I can assure you; their importance will need to be immediately conveyed to your children when they get behind the wheel because, to them, mirrors are useless.

Lesson No. 3: Old school driving vs. modern technology

Our minivan is equipped with some standard technology that make many old-school driving techniques obsolete. Our kids don’t necessarily need to put their right arm behind the passenger seat, rotate their upper body clockwise and look out the rear window to back up – the rear camera will do that for them.

So, as a parent and my son’s first driver’s ed teacher, I am left wondering if looking behind the vehicle by turning your head is mandatory for a new driver anymore. It feels a bit like teaching cursive handwriting – I feel like I should, with virtually no justification, just because that’s how I learned to do it.

I’ve decided to teach him via the “old school” method while using technology as a backup. I can decide if that is an appropriate choice.

Lesson No. 4: The art of the turn

Turning seems to throw Yosef – and I gather, for good reason. I turn mindlessly now, but, when I was learning, I recall thinking that rounding corners required finesse that I had no preparation for.

Think about it: turning should be done slowly, calmly, looking in the direction you’re going after assessing what is surrounding the vehicle. The series of actions to execute a turn seems unnatural. Further, the other, more subtle aspect of turning a vehicle is coming out a turn by allowing the force of the tires to glide the wheel through your hands – another unnatural feeling to first-time drivers.

As Yosef veered around his first parking lot curve, we jerked side-to-side as his locked fingers steered hard left, then back straight, to hard left again – just like the go-carts we’d driven together at his eighth birthday party.

“Take it easy, big man,” I nervously quipped.

Turning will certainly require more lessons.

Lesson No. 5: Watch your blind spot

Our minivan circling the church parking lot caught the eye of an older gentlemen carting bottled water into the sanctuary. Noticing his stare, I had Yosef come to a stop (yes, an abrupt one) next to his red truck.

I smiled and nodded, “Hello! My son is learning to drive. I hope this is OK?”

“Of course!” The man’s voice was warm. “This place is a perfect test track. You’re doing great, son.”

“Thanks! Have a good day.”

Yosef began pulling away (yes, too quickly). As he did, the older man brushed my forearm, saying, “Watch your blind spot.”

I nodded, then suddenly I was lost in thinking of my dad. I remember him saying the same phrase to me, teaching me to drive a stick shift in the parking lot of Kennedy High School in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. As I shifted his Ford Escort Pony into first gear my dad told me, “Toby, watch your blind spot.”

As Yosef applied the brakes (a bit more smoothly this time) and slid the minivan into park, today’s first driving lesson was over.

I felt old.

I was exhausted.

I thought of my dad teaching driving skills to me. On the way home, I called him. I had to.

“Dad, Yosef drove the van today,” I said.

“Man, how can that be?” I imagine my dad feeling older now, too.

“Yeah, I told him to watch his blind spot.”

Dad seemed reflective, saying, “Well, that’s good advice.”

It was.

Teaching Driving blind spot photo: © Natallia / Adobe Stock.

My 7-year-old son has been copying more of what I’m doing lately, major and minor things. He’s been wanting to learn how to cook. He’s started display his action figures the same way I do with my collection. He’s also started beating me at checkers.

I think its because he spends a lot more time than usual  with me at home because of the coronavirus pandemic along with him being at an age where he observes and analyzes a lot more of what I do. In that way, it’s a good thing. He is gaining a keen insight into the exciting world of being a stay-at-home dad.

The drama. The intrigue. The laundry.

Way back in normal times (January 2020 seems like a lifetime ago at this point), the 3:15 p.m. end of his school day only marked the beginning of his second shift. Tee ball, swim class at the Y and other activities kept him moving from one place to the next at an almost breakneck speed. Then came the weekends filled with ball games, birthday parties and any number of other events that made Saturdays and Sundays anything but restful for either of us. The pandemic slowed that all down and that has translated into a lot more IRL face time as opposed to the iPhone kind with our little ones.

As a result, many of us are seeing our kids in a new light. We are seeing what their teachers, coaches and instructors did at all those times our children were away from us. This is also true from our kids’ point of view. Since we are spending so much more time in front of our children we need stay aware that our children’s eyes are always on us.

Take what happened to me a few weeks ago. I was in the kitchen preparing lunch for my son and his younger twin siblings. As I was getting some seasoning out of the cabinet, my oldest said to me, “Can I make you lunch?”

He caught me a little off guard. He had never asked anything like that before. As I carefully weighed my response, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the Play-Doh tools he had carefully set out on the living room floor. “Sure,” I said. “That would be great.

I figured that would be the end of it. Instead, he asked, “What would you like?”

I was not really ready for a follow up. “I would like a hamburger, Caesar salad, carrot sticks, a pepperoni pizza with anchovies and molten lava cake.” Ten minutes later, I would have each of those items handmade for me by my very talented and industrious son.

All this might seem like a common occurrence: kids making “play food” for their parents to “eat.” But how often does this happen in homes where no cooking goes on? Is pretend food preparation a normal activity kids do just because they are kids or was my son mimicking what he sees me and his mother doing regularly?

They always watching, imitating

You’ve probably heard the saying. “Dance like nobody is watching.” The thing is children watch everything we do. Everything. As parents, we need to be more conscious of not only what we say, but what we do. Even the most mundane action can shape and mold how our kids see the world and how they will respond to it. A simple act like seeing me folding laundry reinforces that there are no outdated gender roles in our home. A dad can cook, a dad can clean, just like a mom can fix the car or shovel the driveway after a snowstorm.

Sometimes, in this messy hectic world of parenting, we have the most influence on our kids in the times we think they aren’t paying attention to us: Grooving to a song from our past when it comes on the radio, making a meal in the kitchen, asking your daughter hand you tools as “fix” the dishwasher. They all leave impressions about who we are and what being an adult is, even if the impression isn’t always 100 percent or true to life (hint — my daughter may think I’m a mechanical genius but that dishwasher certain doesn’t). Even the things we say around our kids has an impact. How often have you had a conversation with one of your children and they break out a phrase or wording you recognize as your own?

We may not see these imprints immediately. Growing up, my mom did 99 percent of the food preparation in our house, but she always made sure to explain to me how she was doing it because she never wanted me eating cereal for dinner or depending on anyone else (besides her, of course) for my food. Now here I am today, cooking for my family just as she did for hers.

None of us are perfect as parents, but the eyes and ears of our little ones are always absorbing all they see and hear around them. We must set the example we want them to model for their kids. Whether it’s seasoning a piece of meat or folding the laundry, even the small, most seemingly frivolous moments can all be teachable moments that go a long way toward building the character of our kids.

Set example photo: © iQoncept / Adobe Stock.