The Parent Trap

It’s not everyday I get to help my third grade daughter with her spelling.

But it is every week.

She has a vocabulary test on Fridays.

And that means Thursday night we get to study.

Together.

Now I realized way before I could spell Foxworthy that I am no longer smarter than a fifth grader.

Third Grade spelling, that's different.

Breeng it on!

Eleven of the 15 words on my daughter’s list this week had four letters or less.

And I’m excellent with four letter words.

Her words were SO easy this week, I decided to bring a little extra challenge to this party.

I asked her to spell CROP, which was on her list.

Then I asked her to spell CRAP, which was not.

I asked her to spell SOCK.

On the list.

Then SUCK.

Not on the list.

I asked her to spell SHOT.

Then I .... stopped.

We both smiled.

That’s always the goal.

But the bottom line is my seven year-old got every word right.

Even the bad ones.

Child Services, line 4.

Hey, I learned a long time ago that the parenting handbook comes in many different shapes.

And sizes.

And languages.

There are no rules.

Except the ones you make.

What I do in my house.

May not work in yours.

And what you do in your house.

Oh, puh-lease.

The goal I have as a parent is to always be there for my kids.

Thankfully unemployment helped me get a whole lot closer to that goal.

But the bottom line is you only get one chance at being a parent.

Or in the case of Octomom, 14 chances.

Hey, who am I to judge?

I can say without any doubt, I am a way better parent today than I was when this ride began.

14+ years ago.

It’s funny what a little age.

And a little Tequila.

Can do for you.

I have mellowed out quite a bit since becoming a dad.

Well, since becoming a seasoned dad.

The first few years were Rough.

With a capital R.

But now I have a plan.

I really try hard not to yell at the kids.

Believe it or not, they don’t like it.

I really try hard to be their friend.

Even though all the books tell you not to.

And I really try hard to make sure they know how I feel about them.

Every day.

I love all three of my kids equally.

Even though I tell each one of them that THEY are my favorite.

There is nothing better in this world than spending a day with the kids.

A baseball game.

A trip to McDonalds.

A night by the TV.

It doesn’t really matter.

It’s always special.

Very special.

Like last Sunday night.

I was watching the Raiders game with my 12-year old son.

Unfortunately I passed along my passion for the Silver and Black to my boy.

Now we are both miserable.

Midway through the first quarter, my seven year-old daughter came down to join us.

And she sat on my lap.

Special.

“Aargh me mateys” she said. “Where’s my pot of gold?”

“That’s my pirate mixed with a leprechaun.”

“I call it a Pirachaun.”

Special.

Not sure where that one came from.

Maybe it was the Raiders eye patch.

But something attracted her to the game.

Perhaps the 4-3 defense.

Or the wildcat formation.

Or maybe it was just sitting on dad’s lap.

No matter the reason.

She stayed for the rest of the first half.

Which is more of the Raiders than I can usually handle.

We talked about the game.

The teams.

And some of the players.

It was a great moment to be a parent.

But just when I thought I had made her a true fan, she fired this one at me.

“Why aren’t they playing flag football?”

“Violence is never the answer.”

Good point.

I said.

Realizing there was still a lot more work to be done.