I don’t like to brag about how great a parent I am, you guys. I have a little miracle baby and that generally speaks for itself.
But sometimes I do such a good job of being a father that I need to tell people about it. After all, if people don’t know you did something good, then what was the point, right?
Wait, that came out wrong. It’s good to do good things without recognition. It’s just that recognition makes doing good things so much better. Seriously, what’s the point otherwise?
I’ll tell you what the point is. The point is, I really knocked it out of the park this weekend. On Saturday, my lady friend and I took our little miracle to see the Wiggles in Sydney.
Anyone who knows me knows that I tend to get nervous around any number of children that exceeds, say, one. One children is about all I can handle these days. And I’ve been reluctant to accept The Wiggles into my heart. I was a born a Sesame Street man and that won’t change.
But my little miracle baby is obsessed. He demands to read their books at bedtime and demands to watch the DVDs when he wakes up and in the middle of the day he demands to call them on the phone and I have to pretend to be a bunch of different people on the phone all named Bruce Wiggle just to get him to stop screaming.
My Little Miracle Baby: Hello, is this The Wiggles?
Me: Ya got that right, mate! Too easy! I’m Bruce. Bruce Wiggle!
And so forth.
But get this: the show was kind of fun.
Sure, it was a kiddie show, but everything was really good-natured and moved along quickly and they even improvised a few semi-adult references (not adult as in porn, adult as in older people – get your head out of the gutter!) and they all danced in unison and I left feeling really good about it.
(I haven’t told her I’m married yet. Waiting for the right time – over drinks! Just kidding you guys, relax.)
So while I was pessimistic to start with, I discovered that, while helping my son achieve his dream – seeing his heroes in concert – I ended up achieving my dream – getting compliments.
I realise that not all of you out there have this kind of parenting savvy and know-how at your disposal. If everyone could be this good at parenting, it wouldn’t be special, would it.
That’s why we do these affirmations every week!
Here we go…
- Loving The Wiggles is okay. They’re a fun bunch of people and their work brings joy to my children.
- I accept my children as they are, even if their musical tastes often leave The Wiggles and veer into uncomfortable Steely Dan or Stryper territory.
- I accept my emotions, even when they lead me to climb over unsuspecting children attempting to enjoy childhood to tear a shred of cloth off of that deeply charismatic blue Wiggle’s shirt.
- I live in the present. I am right here. Right now. And sometimes right here is a prison cell, where I await sentencing for “playing keepaway” with The Wiggles’ tambourine.
- I am entitled to my feelings, which may or may not lead me to sue The Wiggles in order to become the fifth member.
Have a great week!