By Rick Kaempfer
I have some good points as a father. For the most part, my kids respond very well to my slightly unusual parenting techniques. I use a combination of "rub some dirt in it" tough love, a "don't take yourself too seriously" sense of fun, and a "I'm always here for you" style of communicating. I don't know if this approach would work with girls, but it works pretty well with my boys.
On the other hand, they are also incredibly aware of my weaknesses. (And I have many). When they're sick, for instance, they go to Mom. When they need something to be fixed, they go to Mom. And most of all, when they need to do a craft for school, they go to Mom.
I've previously written about my hatred of crafts. (I hate crafts) I hated them when I was their age, and I hate them now. I mean, I really, really hate them.
In pre-school it's customary for the parent who drops the children off to come in and help out during the monthly parties (Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc). These parties combined my two least favorite things: Kid parties and crafts. It sounded like torture, so I never volunteered.
On the last day of school, the parents were all invited into the classroom to watch the kids sing a few songs they had learned. That's when I realized that I had been approaching this all wrong.
I realized it when I watched the pre-school moms taking pictures and filming their kids while I had completely forgotten my camera. I realized it when the other kids started handing year-end presents to the teacher, while I had completely forgotten that was the custom. I also realized it when I saw how excited Sean was to see me in the classroom. He didn't care about the camera or the present, he was just happy I was there.
After that eye-opening moment, I penned the following song, to the tune of "Bad Bad Leroy Brown"...
In the suburbs of Chicago,
The pre-school moms are mad,
So don’t say a word,
Or ask if they’ve heard
Of the man called Pre-school Dad
Now Pre-school Dad’s so crabby,
Says “Hey man, I don’t do crafts,”
And on the last day of school, this Pre-school fool,
Forgot to take photographs,
And he’s bad, bad, Preschool Dad,
The baddest dad that the preschool’s had,
Construction paper hates him too,
He’s even hated by the stick of glue.
At pick-up time at pre-school,
The pre-school moms all chat,
But Preschool Dad, in a baseball hat,
He don’t get involved with that,
He don’t plan no kiddie birthdays,
He don’t volunteer in class,
Forgot the teacher’s gift, finally got the drift,
Realized he was an ass,
And he’s bad, bad, Preschool Dad,
The baddest Dad that the preschool’s had,
Construction paper hates him too,
He’s even hated by the stick of glue
By the way, I did send the teachers a gift in the mail (accompanied by a hand-made craft from Sean).
Next year is Sean's last year of pre-school. It's not too late to repent.
