Updated: Aug. 18, 2015
Originally Published: Sep. 13, 2010
Two lively children and a dog refer to me as dad—most of the time, that is. The dog doesn’t really call me anything, at least not in a way I can comprehend. He simply barks, wags his tail, and nudges his water bowl toward me.
As for the kids, they have a variety of names for me. Sometimes I hear “abba” (the Hebrew term for father) or “daddy.” Occasionally, my dark-haired little girl will call me “da-da” and flash a cheeky grin. I can’t help but scoop her up in a bear hug and tease her about that smile, which I know too well.
She giggles and feigns innocence while mirroring my smile back at me. It’s that mischievous expression that drives my friends and family wild, leaving them to speculate about what I’m up to. I revel in it; it brings back that childlike joy within me.
Her smile is the kind that makes you instinctively check your pockets for your wallet, as if you’re about to receive a phone call from an irate parent. Honestly, it’s much easier (and more entertaining) to write about myself, Good Old Mark, than to include my daughter in these reflections. The truth is, as a parent, I can’t help but feel a sense of anxiety for my kids.
If you’re curious about my deepest fear, it’s this: I dread that they will turn out just like me. Yes, I sometimes find myself terrified that they might inherit my foolishness. I worry they’ll become easily bored in school, lacking the challenges they need, and develop poor study habits. I fear they’ll learn how to cut corners and take shortcuts, thinking they can outsmart their way through life.
I fret that they might think they can charm their way out of trouble or even dare to jump off the roof into the swimming pool. My daughter, already tough as nails, insists she can do everything her brother can do, which adds to my worries.
Some of my concerns may seem trivial—after all, she’s only six, so why do I even think about her dating? Yet, I do. She has an affection for boys, and I understand all too well how they can make girls feel special and valued, sometimes without genuine intention. The thought of my daughter getting hurt is unsettling.
So, I’ve advised her older brother to be prepared. I’m contemplating sending him off to a Tibetan monastery for a crash course in self-defense. He’ll return as a tranquil young man who just happens to know 1,983 ways to protect his sister.
I can’t always be there to shield her from life’s challenges, so I might as well utilize his newfound skills. Speaking of skills, I wonder if those monks can help him with his Torah studies. He has a few years before his Bar Mitzvah, but planning ahead is essential.
Now, I face the daunting task of convincing his mother that there’s a prestigious boarding school offering an education beyond what he can receive here. And let me tell you, that will be quite the sales pitch.
Mom is no fool, so I’m not sure how I’ll pull it off. I even thought about claiming he’s off to Hogwarts, but my wand skills aren’t quite up to par. Maybe we should skip that idea entirely.
Then there’s the challenge of explaining to his little sister that her beloved big brother will be away for a while. That’s a tough sell, considering she sees him as her ultimate hero.
The truth is, if he eventually realizes that girls aren’t as silly or gross as he once thought, he may go on a few dates. If a heartbreak occurs, his little sister might just retaliate. She once yelled at me for asking him to lower the volume on his video game.
That girl marched right up to me, wiggling her tiny finger in my face. It took all my strength to look contrite—I couldn’t let her know how proud I was of her bravery. Sure, these kids might drive me to the brink of baldness with their antics, but they’re doing a fantastic job of looking out for one another.
I suppose we must be doing something right in our parenting journey.