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5/8/2002: Time Insanity
4/9/2002: Good Friends and a Weekend Getaway
1/30/2002: Runaway Day
1/19/2002: Ready to walk
12/16/2001: Ornaments
12/6/2001: Galpals
9/25/2001: Flags
9/7/2001: BabyBabyBaby
8/9/2001: Moving
6/25/2001: Sleeping through the night
6/21/2001: Why Website?

Happy Father's Day, all you new and old dads out there.

I took the boys to the park last week to run off some of their excess energy. (I resort to this in a desperate attempt to wear them out so they'll sleep at night, as you might have guessed.) Sand, swings, climbing up and down the playground equipment steps and going down the slide are pretty exciting if you're only 16 months old and under three feet tall.

We made our way gradually back towards the van to drive off for further adventures (like going to the hardware store with Mom). Two motorcycle policemen were pointing their radar guns out at the traffic, semi-hidden from the street by some bushes. Their motorcycles were huge and shiny; Riley grunted with recognition and made the "brrm-brrrrm" sound that he imitates when shown a picture of a motorcycle. He made a zipping beeline for the officers and their machines while Casey, completely unimpressed, headed rapidly in the opposite direction. I chased after Casey, snatched him up in an underarm grab and headed back after Riley, who had marched up to the nearest officer, pointing at the motorcycle. The officer turned in some surprise and came closer, looming over all of us. It was hard to see his face with a big mustache and sunglasses all hidden beneath a helmet. He was big. He had high shiny boots and a badge; very impressive.

I don't know about you, but I don't generally have much contact with policemen. When I do it always makes me a little nervous, as I mentally check to see whether I've done anything wrong. With Casey squirming under my right arm, I scuttled over and made a desperate grab for Riley with my left arm. It belatedly occurred to me that I might not be making the best impression of a loving mom in complete control of her darling little boys, but there wasn't much I could do about it at that point. After getting both boys under a sweaty semblance of control, I looked up to see the nearest officer looking rather nervous, as his partner laughed at all of us. "Don't scare them off, Tom!" Riley looked very small next to that cop's tall legs, but Officer Tom leaned down and handed Riley a sticker, then handed me another one for the wriggling Casey. Fremont Police Junior Officers, the stickers said. Pretty cool.

It's funny how we form our attitudes about police and other authorities. I know that my feelings towards them were heavily colored by my Dad teaching my older sister and I how to watch for the Highway Patrol from the back seat as he zoomed down the highways when we were little kids. They were a sort of bogeyman, except that we were supposed to go up to them if we were lost or in trouble. Really pretty confusing for a little kid. I don't remember ever coming into contact with them except when Dad got pulled over for speeding or risky driving, and then getting pulled over myself as an adult (though not often!). It wasn't until a lot later that I had some better encounters with police.

But I would like my kids to see the police as protectors. I don't want my own nervousness to cause them to hesitate to go up to a policeman (or policewoman) if they need help. I thought that big policeman was intimidating and scary, but Riley didn't think so. But then Riley and Casey aren't scared of much right now. Their fearlessness and tendency to fling themselves headlong down slides makes my heart pound with fear for them, but I'm trying to just be there to catch them rather than screaming at them to stop. I don't want them to be frightened of life. I want them to be able to call for help if they get scared. It's hard to know where the balance is between teaching sensible caution and being heedless and stupid. Or letting them learn by doing (and occasionally falling) versus preventing them from getting hurt. It can knock the air out of your chest to see a child climb something he knows he isn't supposed to, then heedlessly step out into thin air and fall before your reaching arms can get there to catch him. The fact that the dangers and the consequences only get bigger and more complex as they get older only makes it harder to imagine how we'll all survive.

Maybe it's a mom thing, this fearfulness about their getting hurt, the impossible wishing to wrap them in soft cushiony cotton until magically they're adult and able to take care of themselves. We won't even get into how unable to function they would be if you really did such a thing.

Maybe dads are just as heartwrenched to see their kids go through a hard lesson, but they hide it better because men in this society are supposed to be tough and not show hurt. Definitions of what it takes to be a great dad vary amazingly depending on the attitudes of who you're talking to, but supposedly it's getting more okay for dads to show a caring and tender side. It's still a risky thing for guys, as any of the single dads or dads who do the majority of the childcare know. It takes a lot of guts and bravery to be a good dad who has a softer side he's not afraid to put out there for anyone to see.

Anyway. enough rambling. Happy Dad's day, you Daddies and Papas and all.