Daddies Know Best, Too
Sometimes mama doesn't know best. Sometimes I am completely off the mark. Where Mr. Pants is concerned this happens on occasion (OK it happens a lot). Luckily for us, we have Daddy Pants. I have written before that Daddy understands Mr. Pants on a level that no one else can get too. See, I'm an indoor kid and sometimes do not understand their silly reindeer games.
All of my education on child development and parenting cannot hold a candle to instinct. I act on instinct several times a times a day. It has seriously saved me. What I've come to realize is that dads have it too. It just looks a little different and it can fly in the face of MY instinct. Contradicting what I thought I knew. And sometimes I need to remind myself that I am not the only one in this house that knows what they are doing.
And that sometimes I am wrong (ouch).
I didn't marry a bumbling oaf. I married a capable and strong and loving man who knows how to care for and parent our kids. Sometimes, dare I say, he's even better at it (shhhh please don't tell anyone). There are things that he knows, that I don't. There are things that I know, that he doesn't. Our job has been to find where those two things come together and work.
I cannot tell you how many times I have tried to stop Daddy from doing something that I insisted would scar the lil dude for life. "Don't flip him in the water! It's too scary!" "Don't let him fall off the jungle gym! What if he hits his mouth on the ground?" "There is NO WAY I will let you roll him down that hill, it's too steep!" And on and on and on. But I need to chill out. Because Daddy Pants knows what he's doing. Like the day we were at the backwoods county fair with the rickety, lawsuit-waiting-to-happen "rides." Pants was just 15-months-old and daddy thought it would be THE. BEST. idea to take him down the "Skyscraper" slide. You know, the ones that you have to use the burlap sacks to slide down on?
Daddy's eyes were fixed on the slide and I could see him tuning me out as I talked about the dangers of taking our precious lamb onto a deathtrap. "I won't let anything happen to him. He's gonna love it. He'll be fine," Daddy insisted in a flat, "you're kind of being crazy but I still love you" tone. I could feel my heart start to jump and I even had tears coming to my eyes (Oh the drama!) because I was terrified. But then a voice in my head, actually I think it was my sister-in-law who was standing right next to me, said, "He really is going to be fine. Do you honestly think his daddy would take him up there if he thought he'd scar him for life?" and I knew she was right.
I gave the "all clear on my end" look and they took off. I couldn't say a word for fear I'd cry some really dramatic mama tears and I was trying desperately to hang on to my sanity as I watched my husband carry our baby up those steep ass rusty stairs. Mr. Pants was wide eyed and smiling as they climbed to this new adventure. When they got to the top he looked around amazed at the view. As I watched in horror, it occurred to me that Mr. Pants was completely relaxed. Not clinging to daddy for safety, no tears, no fear. Just an enormous "this is crazy cool" grin across his face. I took a deep breath as they began their decent (plummet?) to the ground and prepared myself for both possible endings. I would be scooping Mr. Pants up in the safety of my arms and holding him until the big bad slide experience was a distant memory OR I might owe Daddy an apology. They came to a stop and a belly-laughing Mr. Pants shot right up and ran towards the stairs to climb back up with daddy in hot pursuit. His little face begging, "Again! Again!" I couldn't help but laugh along with them. His face, pure elation.
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