Apparently at a daycare center calledHands Of Our Future in Dover, Delaware, three female workers have been accused of and arrested for encouraging 3 year-old toddlers to fight each other; being told, “No pinching, only punching…”.
A cell phone captured the evidence as a toddler turned to an adult for protection only to be pushed into the fight.
Unfortunately, those “hands of our future” were being taught to punch and hit.
My first thought was, “Wow, that’s incredibly sad to think about! What if my son was ever in that situation?”
My next thought was, “I wonder if like in the movie Fight Club, there are other Toddler Fight Clubs scattered across the United States…”.
Because seriously, if three adult daycare workers supported a Toddler Fight Club in Delaware, of all random places, what are the odds that was the only place it has happened and is happening?
Granted, there is no justification in forcing toddlers to injure each other, but what could have possibly been in it for these three women?
Bragging rights? That’s beyond messed up.
A crazy news story like this only feeds into the imagination of parents like us who have to send their kids todaycare for more waking hours than we get to spend with them ourselves.
Fortunately, I have a lot of trust in my son’s daycare center. Enough to know that if he comes home with a bruise, it’s because he fell down while playing with a toy; not because he was involved in a Toddler Fight Club.
“Oh! You have the son that sleeps like a baked potato!” That’s what someone said to my wife at a birthday party a few weeks ago.
She and her husband had just met me downstairs and somehow I ended up explaining how Jack looks whenever I go to check on him at night before I go to bed.
When he sleeps, I just imagine my son as a baked potato, half-wrapped in foil, with butter, sour cream, chives, and pepper. He always has his back curled in away from me, like a little amoeba.
Please know that as I say these obscure things about my toddler son, I say them adoringly. I mean, what’s not to love about a baked potato? Everybody loves a baked potato!
Jack officially became a baked potato when he was three months old. That’s when he got this completely unflattering pajama looking-thing that made me embarrassed for him to be wearing it. Even if it was only at night. (Pictured below.)
A year and a half later I have fully embraced, and now celebrate, how he looks like a baked potato when he sleeps.
Jack also makes me think of that Taco Town commercial on Saturday Night Live; where they advertise a taco wrapped in a tortilla, wrapped in a burrito, wrapped in a corn husk, wrapped in a pizza, wrapped in a blueberry pancake.
I’m the one who puts Jack to sleep for naps and bedtime: He has to be holding his water cup, a toy, and his Mimi (thin security blanket) all while wrapped up in a regular blanket.
Without all of those peripherals, there is no chance of him even thinking about falling asleep.
Yet still, once he actually does fall asleep, it’s often in the most uncomfortable-looking positions. Sometimes he’s balled up in his baked potato position with his head mashed up in the corner of his bed.
Other times, his ankle will be caught in the wooden bars of the crib.
You would think this would lead to a night of restless sleep. But how does Jack sleep?
Looking back over 20 years later, that green-and-black “educational” game we played during computer class was not only not really all that educational, but it somehow completely glamorized the turmoil of those Americans who actually made the trek to Oregon.
(Sort of like the way 16 and Pregnant does with teen pregnancy, but that’s a whole other story I’ve already written about.)
The Oregon Trail made you not really mind so much when a member in your wagon died, due to a snakebite, dysentery, cholera, typhoid, exhaustion, or measles.
Even if it was morbid and I’m just now realizing it, I suppose it was fun to get to write on the fallen member’s tombstone.
And boy was it exciting to hunt my own furry food: squirrels, rabbits, bison, deer, elk and bears. If my aim was really good that day, I would kill over 200 pounds of meat and not be able to fit it all on the wagon. (Bragging rights!)
If only driving your kid around in the car was that much fun.
I suppose, though, if they could make The Oregon Trail such a glorious and engaging game, they could do the same thing with take a road trip with your kid.
Just like in The Oregon Trail game, you would have to pack enough clothes and food before you even head out.
While it’s not likely that anyone in the car would die of a snakebite or dysentery, it’s possible I could die of annoyance because my son keeps pretending to drop toys in the back seat, then cries when I don’t pick them up for him, causing me to explain that as long as the car is moving, my job is to keep us all safe by paying attention to the road.
As the parent who drives our kid around almost exclusively, I know how challenging and nerve-wracking the process is. My 30 minute drive to and then back from work each day used to be my “reflection time.”
It’s rumored that some of my not-so-distant Italian ancestors had ties to the 1940′s Chicago mob scene.
Based on the mannerisms that my son Jack does, I could very easily see that to be true.
Thinking back on comments people tell me when they meet Jack in person or even just when they see his pictures, they people say he looks (and acts) either very serious or extremely happy. But not not much in-between; not much of an emotional transition.
It’s basically how Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino, and Joe Pesci act in every movie I’ve seen them in: They never smile… until they do. And by that point, once they’ve reached their giddy stage… watch out!
Because by that point, the insanity has set in.
Yeah, that’s Jack.
He’s sort of a little mobster.
Besides “mine,” his favorite word right now is “UP!”
Jack has a deep, raspy voice. And when he says the word “up” he says it slowly and with that extra syllable at the end, like a native Italian speaker.
So I’ve got this mini-man now telling me “UHP-PEH!” (Like a baby boss!)
I have to admit, it’s almost intimidating.
We can be playing with his toys on the carpet in the living room and all of the sudden, he says to me: “UP!”
That means he’s ready to go outside or play in a different room or if nothing else, I have to hurry and find a new way to entertain him.
The thing is, I sort of have to do what he says. If he’s tired of an activity, even if it’s eating, and he says, “All done!” then I have to act on it.
It’s not like the kid is going to patiently wait for me to finish what I was doing first.
The more I think about it, I really am a henchman for a mobster; who happens to be only 21 months old.
I serve him. I feed him. I dress him. I drive him. I tuck him into bed. I do his shopping for him.
Even though I make him say please first, he’s still ultimately telling me what to do. (Like a baby boss!)
And I do it.
My son is the Todfather. But you didn’t hear that from me.
As a dad, I definitely have my dark, pessimistic side. I feel like way too often, this quote by comedian Louis C.K. perfectly summarizes my outlook:
“The hardest thing about having kids is the days that you spend with them. That’s really the hardest part. It’s just everyday that you have them.”
In other words, parenting is tough. How do I make it? More importantly, how do other people make it?
If we knew all the answers on what to do as parents, I suppose we wouldn’t be reading blogs like this.
But not only do I not have the answers, I don’t have the patience nor enough of a positive attitude. I just don’t, on my own.
By default, I’m way too greedy when it comes my sense of personal free time; which doesn’t help when you’re trying to take care of another little human being.
Plus, I get easily irritated (and grouchy the next day) when I can’t sleep through the night without having to get up a few times to soothe my son back to sleep.
I don’t simply mean these things annoy me: I’m saying they anger me. I don’t like that about myself.
These tendencies of mine keep me from being the dad I want to be.
Strangely though, the best help I found was when I re-programed my radio to WAY-FM, a national, non-profit broadcasting network which features The Wally Show.
Here are 5 reasons why keeping my car radio on a station like this as I drive my son around in the car helps me to be a better dad:
1. Relevant conversations. I get my news updates (and lot of my blog topics) from The Wally Show‘s real conversations about real life events going on; from buzzing parenting topics to pop culture.
2. Positive, yet realistic attitudes. It has become very evident to me that since changing to this station, starting and ending my work day with it, a lot of my own negativity has been re-wired. I catch myself thinking about encouraging nuggets of knowledge I heard on their show when before, I would have focused on the negative instead.
3. Solid, uplifting music. While the songs played in between conversations are largely Christian, they are more importantly positive. Sure, they play stuff like MercyMe’s “I Can Only Imagine,” but they also play Mat Kearney’s “Down” as well.
4. Good humor. I can always use a laugh, and I always get it when I have this show on. Just look at Wally’s wedding photo (above) for the evidence. I used to be a Free Beer and Hot Wings kind of guy. But now I can listen to goofy comedy and still have a clear conscience for the rest of the day.
5. Opportunities to help others.The Wally Show is a big supporter and fund-raiser for Blood:Water Mission, a grassroots organization that empowers communities to work together against the HIV/AIDS and water crises in Africa.
Simply put, listening to The Wally Show, as opposed to the average radio station, integrates positivity into my life. And I am an often pessimistic parent who needs that kind of reinforcement that lasts throughout the day.
There’s a really good chance you live in an area where you can pick up The Wally Show on your radio. Click these colorful words to see a list of cities and find out for sure.
Worst case scenario: You can still very easily listen to The Wally Show‘s podcasts by clicking these colorful words if you happen to live in one of the few cities that doesn’t have radio access to the show.
