Ever feel like stoning Mr. Rogers? Pounding Barney? Sending Sheri Lewis for a long walk on a short pier? I do. Don't get me wrong. The kiddie show hosts on public TV do a great job. They're endlessly huggable, the kids love them, and they send the right message. It's just that by the time I get finished addressing my kids' needs. "Hearing" them, acknowledging their emotions, responding appropriately, I've had enough sensitivity for the day! I don't want to hear a lot of numbingly redundant goop from a purple dinosaur! OKAY!!!???

...Sorry. I guess I kind of snapped. But I'm exhausted. Being a perfect parent is hard work. I mean, I'm understanding, I'm sensitive, I'm omniscient, I know ALL of the lyrics to the "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" theme. And this perfect parenting stuff isn't exactly second nature to me. After all, I was the last child in a litter of six. My parents didn't spend a lot of time "hearing" me! In fact, I don't recall any of my emotional needs EVER being met!! I was told what to do, when to do it, and I did it or I would be punished!! Was this a great environment for learning what's PARENTALLY CORRECT?! I DON'T THINK SO!!!!

But I'm not bitter. I'm aware that I'm the member of a transitional generation in parenting. Without any reference point whatsoever, I'm mastering all of the parenting skills that will make my children emotionally whole. And in practicing my belief that two hours of good parenting requires four hours of good psychiatry, I have learned that "BECAUSE I SAID SO, DAMMIT!" is often not the appropriate response to a toddler's meek query. But does that mean I have to be Mr. Rogers ALL the time!? Mr. Perfect Parent!!? Do I have to smile and hum, "it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood..." as junior takes an ax to the patio furniture!!?

Wait ... Now that I think of it, maybe my son answered this question for me the other day....

I'd had the mother of all bad days--youngest with an ear infection, flat tire, meeting with a studio gnome who thought David Lean was the guy who invented low fat frozen dinners. So, at the end of the day, when I told my rebellious middle boy to brush his teeth and he said "In another lifetime, Padre!" I exploded, 50s style, barking at him like a big-chested fascist. My son just stared. When I was through, he looked at me and almost smiled. "Have a bad day?..." he said. He seemed glad to know that I could be a nutbag. And I was glad to know that my parenting has been good enough that he could handle my being, well, imperfect...

I guess I'll put away the parenting manuals and start being myself. P.S. Mr. Rogers, you're a DEAD MAN!!

©Sam Harper

ABOUT Sam Harper

Sam Harper is a screenwriter. He wrote the movie "Rookie Of The Year", released by 20th Century Fox. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, three sons and a turtle named Sassy.

©Margie Culbertson

Back to The Humor and Life, in Particular Home Page