I shouldn’t spend any time or effort worrying about what people might think of my parenting. Firstly, I’m fairly awesome at being a dad. By this point in the game, I’ve got a good skill set, a surplus of patience, and an overwhelming love for the little dude. And logically, anyone watching how we interact and get through the day would be impressed with us. There’s also the ridiculousness of thinking that anyone is watching in the first place. I’ve always been overly concerned with the perception that hypothetical other people might have of me, which is silly.
There are a few moments, thought, that I still can’t help but imagine how a person wandering by could misinterpret what they saw or hear, like I’m living a sit-com. Two examples:
1)Max is a fan of being nude, like any kid. One day while getting dressed to leave the house, I dove under the covers stark naked and hid, because I thought it would be funny. Max climbed in after me and we hung out, just two nudies in the bed. How was I supposed to know that he would want to keep having nudie time every day for the next few weeks? I try to focus on the ‘healthy body image and comfort with the human form’ element of the whole scenario, but I’d hate to have to explain it to a passerby.
2) He’s currently a fan of running a circular loop through the living room, kitchen, and hallway, and he gets pretty jazzed when we count the number of laps he’s doing. Were someone to hear me asking how many laps he wanted to do this time, they might incorrectly believe that the running is part of some strange training regimen or disciplinary action. I swear it’s all his idea and he loves doing it. He did run himself into a stitch in side today, which was a novel experience. It took about 12 consecutive laps for the stitch to happen, and it cleared up after a few minutes of rest. His explanation was that he was ‘too full of potato chips to run anymore’. That may be, my boy, that may be.