I’m a good dad. I have absolutely no quantifiable proof or evidence to support my claims, but I have to say it because this entire post is about me being a bad dad. We, the family, hung out at the pool with a friend and her daughter two days ago, and things just couldn’t get worse for me.
You think I’m overly critical? Go on. Keep reading.
Sad. Dad. Bad. Had. Dad is sad. Very, very sad. He had a bad day. What a day Dad had.
Kairo is best defined as UNIQUE. I said this when he had been around for about 30 days, so those that know me are sick of hearing it. However, those that know Kairo know that this is true. Kairo thinks and processes just like me, so I have to teach and discipline him in unique ways. Kalel processes more like Tiyaanah, though his feelings get hurt like mine, so I treat them differently.
For Kalel, I’m very aggressive. I tell my one-year-old to “get up” or “shake it off” because of his stubbornness. He likes to rebel and get away with “being the baby” so he needs tough love from dad.
My doode does NOT accept aggression. Yelling evokes more yelling. Screaming produces more screaming.
To teach Kairo, he needs swift and harsh consequences. However, I have to remain calm and level-headed. I need to show that I’m teaching him from a place of love and not aggression or he will totally and absolutely lose his poop. Few people have heard this child’s true temperament, though everyone thinks they know him after a tantrum or two.
Kairo is a wild one. (I describe him going Super Saiyan here).
Bad Dad Part 1
Kairo likes throwing water into his brother’s face. They often take baths together because it helps them bond. I could separate them easily, but they always beg to bathe together, so I just do it.
Neither toddler will splash until the opponent enters the ring. Then, they share that look.
And I know water will get everywhere.
E V E R Y W H E R E
Kairo bullies his brother at times because he is bigger and faster. When he splashes too much, I can’t say, “Stop Kairo.” My little man will only listen for the first twelve seconds. However, if I throw an equal amount of water in his face, those thirty turn into minutes.
I can’t do that to Kalel, though. He doesn’t process that way. He is more sensitive and can’t laugh at the action.
Warning: I don’t recommend this type of parenting. Though I will continue to parent this way, you’ll see the flaws in my methods soon.
Bad Dad Part 2
While we were at the pool, Kairo kept splashing water into his friend’s face. He likes hanging out with this eight-year-old blossom, but Kairo terrorizes more than he plays when he first meets someone.
Therefore, he kept splashing water on her.
Naturally, bad dad splashes back. Only, we weren’t in a bathtub, and I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking at the blossom to make sure that she isn’t too annoyed. When I look back at Kairo.
He wasn’t upset (remember he’s not Kalel) and he unquestionably learned his lesson, but I had to feel bad for that one.
But wait. Oh, wait! It gets so much worse.
Bad Dad Part 3
The blossom chases Kairo through the pool playfully.
Me: [thinking] Maybe I should get the lifesafer for him but let him learn about water.
Mom: [thinking] Maybe I should get the lifesafer for him but I have Kalel.
Me: [thinking] He’s going to go under.
Kairo goes under.
Before you judge my next actions, know that I know someone who recently lost their child to drowning by simply jumping into the pool.
I watch him.
Will he get up?
Did he drown?
All thoughts occur within two seconds of me feeling like Bad Dad until I snap out of it.
Tiyaanah yells gently, and I’m moving forward.
I pull the little guy out, and he’s fine but wants to sit out the next few minutes.
The day won’t end
Later that day, while still feeling stupid, I hear Kalel choking. For those that now Fatman, you know why this happened. For those that don’t, Fatman’s superpower is to stuff food into his mouth. AS MUCH AS INHUMANLY POSSIBLE.
Typically, a few pats on the back will restore Fatman’s super strength to eat.
Not today. Of course, not today.
I’m patting. Panicking. Patting. CPRing. Patting. Wondering if mom can hear because I’m panicking too much to do anything.
A large chunk of watermelon lands on the floor.
He’s still choking.
After several more pats and pushing into his gut (don’t try this at home), he vomits a too much of his lunch onto the kitchen floor.
Fatman (proving his might) is still holding a piece of watermelon. He stuffs the piece into his mouth with tears still streaming. I’m not exaggerating. He wouldn’t even wait until I put him back on the ground.
I call mom, so I can get a moment to whimper in the bathroom and recompose myself.
I like to share my pain because all parents have days like this. Well, you probably don’t almost kill your children, but you might. And if you’re like me, no worries. You’re not alone. You’re not a bad dad or mom. You’re just a parent. After teaching for so many years, I can tell you that the most arrogant parents are the ones that know the least about what their kids think of them. I plan to save this post, so my children know one day. I’m doing the best that I can.