Cause at this point, my children don’t need me.
No, they’re not paying the bills or picking up the groceries (they rarely pick up the toilet seat) or maintaining the car.
Anyway, they don’t need me.
And they know it.
Don’t believe me? Let me give you an example.
Remember when your children ran to the door when you came in. They yelled out daddy or mommy. They hugged you as if you were a lifeboat, and they were adrift at sea.
Yeah that hasn’t happened in I don’t know how long. Seriously – WAY PAST THAT STAGE!
I’m lucky if they actually get up to answer the door.
Here’s what BR is thinking when I knock at the door. I don’t hear anything. Maybe, I do hear something. I’ll just ignore it. Let someone else get it.
SJ would rather not get up from what he is doing. Yet, he feels more obligated. Bless his 8-year-old self. Yeah, I give it another year or two. Anyway, when the actually answers the door, I walk in. All I see is his back as he is running off to continue doing whatever it was he was doing before I disturbed him.
By the way, I call out hello when I walk in. You’d think they would answer? And they do – after I shout it out a second or third time.
I could take this personally. Hello – they are my children. But I don’t. Well, not completely.
Cause they don’t need me.
They dress themselves. They clothe themselves (yeah some clothes end up on backwards or inside out half the time, but they don’t care or notice unless it’s pointed out). They can entertain themselves. They can get a snack themselves.
Okay I’m lying. My children need me but not for much.
BR and I read together every night. Throughout the day, he likes telling me about the remote baseball facts he has learned at that very moment. Did you know Curt Schilling was born in Alaska? Yeah, I remember some of those remote facts. He likes me to bring him popsicles and plug in his kindle
SJ likes to talk me about Angry Birds Star Wars. Did you know Count Duku in Angry Birds Star Wars is knows as Count Dodo in Angry Birds Star Wars II? He likes us to sit together even though he doesn’t necessarily want to talk. He’s focused on his Kindle.
Actually, my children do still need Ms. MMK and I for a few things. Ahh, to be useful.
BR and SJ need Ms. MMK and I at homework time. I don’t do their homework for them – much. I’m the checker. I’m also the one who tells them they make a mistake or when they could do better. I’m also a study partner. How do you spell —-?
BR and SJ need Ms. MMK and I for playdates. Ms. MMK does most of the arranging. I often end up being the driver when they go to their friends’ houses or the door answerer when they have friends. Hosting adds the strenuous task of having to inquire if a drink or food is desired.
BR and SJ need Ms. MMK and I for meals. Actually, I think they could do get the food themselves. But they would rather not. Don’t judge. Hell, the restaurant industry thrives due to this preference. Anyway, we make dinner. We also clean up after dinner but they don’t care about that.
And that’s where it ends. You see I’m not too useful to my children. They may even say they don’t need me.
But I need them.
I need to talk to them. I need to hug them. I need to kiss them. I need to tickle them. I need to laugh with them. I need to guide them. I need to love them.
I’m pretty sure they need this stuff too.
Yeah, I lied. I could never be a deadbeat dad.