Applying Political Theory to Parenthood

Having failed at so many, many worthwhile endeavors Father Goof is a graduate student. As part of my program, I am taking a course on political theory, which, to my surprise, is having practical applications to the art of parenthood. The other day we learned about the Borda count, an election method in which voters rate their choices and the candidate with the highest rating wins. My attitude towards democracy in the home usually echoes Lycurgus who when an Athenian told the Spartans to adopt democracy, answered, “Begin with your own family.”

Nonetheless the Borda count proved useful for maintaining social harmony in my kingdom. The other day, I picked up my son from school and asked him where he wanted to go to dinner. He told me Baja Fresh. I asked him what his second choice would be. At first he grumbled that he wasn’t really getting to choose, but I told him that if he picked two and his sister picked two then they would be bound to agree on one and everyone would be at least a little happy (thankfully they only eat at three restaurants.)

“Good idea Dad, but let me ask her which restaurant she wants for dinner.”

He is learning how to set the agenda to control the outcome – impressive.

When we got to her school he asked her, “Do you want dinner at Baja Fresh or the noodle place?”

“No Baja Fresh, I want noodles!” she voted.

“Daddy, she wants the noodle place.”

“Buddy,” I told him, “If you asked her right, she would have picked Baja Fresh and you would have gotten your first choice.”

“That’s ok Daddy. I was empowering her.”

I think I should stop reading my political theory homework to him for bedtime (although it does have the ended effect – Rawls, Habermas, and Dahl are good, but no one beats Amy Guttman for narcotic effect.)

Still it is an improvement, his previous attempts at empowering his sister have resulted in timeouts for him and the application of ice to his sibling’s forehead.

Brisk Fashions

Finally, cool temperatures have arrived. Hat weather - swimsuit season for balding.

But this is my first hat season with a beard. The overall effect is imposing - I am telling people I have converted to Amish.

Crative Discipline

My wife was talking on the phone with her sister, who has a dog (but no children). During the phone call the dog mis-behaved and my sister-in-law ordered, "Bad dog. Get in your crate!"

My wife laughed at this and when she told me about it I mused about getting a crate for our children when they misbehave (which is frequent). Child abuse issues aside, my wife doesn't think it would work. We'd order one of our children into the crate and the other child would start screaming, "No, that's my crate. It's not fair she/he always gets to go in the crate and I never do."

Hard Bargaining

"Daddy," my son pleads, "Mommy says I don't need to change my underwear when I showered last night."

"You didn't shower last night."

"Yes I did!"

"No you didn't. You showered the night before. Change. Your. Underwear. Now."

"But Daddy, I don't..."

"If you don't change your underwear right now I won't tell you who won the World Series game last night."

The Unbearable Grossness of Boyhood

Little boys are gross. Always have been, always will be. Blood, poop, boogers - that is their realm. As a pre-teen I was briefly the publisher of Constipated Illustrated (it was not a journal of or about the movement.)

Kids today don't have to self-publish, today's boys are served by vast industries of grossness. (As always, I don't write out of contempt for today's soft generation - I write it of jealousy.) The exemplar of this realm is Dav Pilkey, creator of Captain Underpants. If I were seven or eight, I would be obsessed with Captain Underpants.

Pilkey's website has great little online games that my son plays. In general they are knock-offs of a video game classic (antique?) like Frogger or Space Invaders. Then there is the Booger Buster 2000. It is Tetris, except that the blocks are boogers sneezed out by a giant monster. There are sounds effects. It is disgusting. My stomach churned as I showed my son how to play. However, it is also Tetris so I couldn't stop playing. Except that it was disgusting. But it was still Tetris and it is so satisfying to line up those little blocks/boogers.

I'm just writing this to warn you.

My SuperPower

I have a super power, believe it or not. It isn't much, but it is mine. I can grow a beard extraordinarily fast. If this is compensation for the follicles rapidly evacuating my head, it is a very raw deal.

If I skip my Friday morning shave and go unshorn through the weekend (and most do) by Monday I've pretty much got a beard. This year, because of Jewish holidays I didn't shave for quite a stretch. So, without much forethought, I have a beard.

At first my daughter liked it. She saw me, touched it, and yelled, "Red!"

Through some genetic fluke (my hair is boring brown) I have a red beard. But then I kissed her and she yelled, "Ow, scratchy."

A friend of ours spoke well of it, saying the red highlights suited me and that the beard made me look distinguished and professorial. My wife noted, "She doesn't have to kiss you."

My son, however, is excited as can be, so we've been discussing how I should shape. He is caught between Obi Wan Kenobi (the young one, thank you very much), Wolverine, and Civil War General Ambrose Burnside popularizer of (you guessed it) the sideburn.





Any thoughts from readers? Really, speak up. I'll try one, shave it off and try another. I'll probably cycle through a dozen by New Years.