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An open letter to parents with children ages 3 months-12 years.

First off I have to say congratulations. You have taken on the hardest job in life. Raising a child. If you have more than one, even better. I like children. In fact I love them. I think every kid, if possible, should have a sibling or two. It’s important for them to learn sharing at an early age, and great for you if you have a large lawn.

Whatever your situation is with your children, traditional, single parent, divorced, adopted, in-vitro, broken condom, or sperm borrowing domestic turkey baster lesbian, I know it isn’t easy and you have my respect. This child is your whole life. I know there is nothing you wouldn’t do for them.

That being said, could you do something for the rest of us? Could you please, please stop talking about them all the time? I mean, shut the hell up?

Fathers are the worst offender. Just after the birth they waddle around beaming like a 9 year-old showing off their potato powered clock. A man’s role in producing a child is giving up a part of themselves that is manufactured 24/7. I’m sure there are even a few minutes after death until the 5 o’clock whistle hits the scrotum. Nothing to it. After conception there’s nothing more to do than what you did before the wedding, sit around and wring your hands while your wife does all the work

That’s why you silly bastards talk so much about the kids. You have all this energy because your job was over a year ago.

Hey, the next time someone gets a chance to ask you how your kid is, why not say just fine, and leave it at that? All we are doing is being polite. As long as they’re happy and healthy that’s all we want to know, and that’s all that really matters. But you can’t stop there can you? You go on and on and on about the most mundane things and it’s driving the rest of us out of our minds.

I don’t know when this started to happen. My guess is the late 80s or early 90’s with the whole “self-esteem explosion” (another problem that is killing our culture, but that’s another column) It must come to a stop and it starts and finishes with you.

Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s wonderful when your child starts to speak, but don’t go on for 20 minutes yammering about his sentence structure the way my college professor would do about Hemingway. I’ve got news for you. Your kid is not that special. Yes, he’s special to you. He’s your kid. But he’s only special to you and your immediate family. Even your parents are getting sick of it. How else can you explain why more seniors are traveling these days?

Does he have a great arm? Fantastic! Say no more, and I’ll spring for the box seats when he starts on the mound opening day. Is she a natural on skates? Not another word and I’ll watch the house while you’re away at the 2018 Olympics cheering her on. Is his brain bigger because your wife breastfed him in the moonlight until he was four? Enough said! I’ll pick him out a snazzy new neck brace to hold his noggin up straight for his thirteenth birthday. Deal?

Until then, why not take the route of quiet admiration and encouragement with your child. He or she will feel a lot less pressure. When you were a kid do you remember your parents singing your praises until they were blue in the face? I think not. If they did, did it help?

Of course you want them to have a better childhood than yours. That’s natural. So why not keep it to yourself? Why do I have to hear about all the special classes they are taking and all the money it’s costing you? In reality it’s just another way for you to tell others what a wonderful caring person you are. Hey, super parent, get over yourself.

I know what you may be thinking and you are dead wrong. I have a child. Three month old boy. I had him out of spite, just to prove a point. I’m going to single handedly (along with my wife) show how it’s done.

For example, at parties he’s the last thing I bring up, and only when pressed. I plead ignorance to its name. I tell shocked mommies and daddies that since I haven’t changed his diapers I have no idea what sex it is. I quickly pay a complement to the hostess on the clam dip and change the subject. Now, truthfully, wouldn’t you find that refreshing?

So give it a shot. Just the basic facts, happy kid, doing great, digging life. You’ll make the world a better place, and find other things to talk about. And don’t forget to give him or her a break from the hell-bent future overachiever/neurotic schedule. Take them for a long drive without video games in the back and no music. Let them stare out the window. When you get home, you’ll have nothing to talk about. That would be nice for all of us.


Allan Havey