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Last Monday, according to this report on the Smoking Gun, Roger Stephens, 61, went to a Walmart in Stone Mountain, Georgia, and slapped Paige Matthews, 2, for crying. Not to dismiss the injustice of the average, workaday abused child, but I think it's important to note here that Ms. Matthews was not in Mr. Stephens care at the time. In fact, before she came into that Walmart with her mother and incited her batterer with her incessant tears, young Paige and Mr. Stephens had never met.
To be fair, Mr. Stephens did fire a warning shot before snapping. "If you don't shut that baby up I will shut her up for you," Stephens apparently said to Mrs. Matthew's, the toddler's mother. It was only after the child refused to comply that Mr. Stephens acted in what he thought was the best interest of all parties involved. Which, as any of you who've ever known a 2-year-old might imagine, caused said child to shriek louder.
Here's a question that may be nagging you, too: When did unsolicited parental advice become extreme sport? Last week, while I was on vacation, I was happily reading on the beach under an umbrella with my twelve year old daughter while my 3-year-old sat in a hole nearby. Suddenly, a jogger appeared out of nowhere and stepped into our shade: that is to say, right in my face. "I don't mean to sound paranoid or anything," she said, "but this is a beach, and your son's sitting in a hole."
"Yehsssss?" I said, trying to figure out which part of her statement was paranoid. As far as I could tell, her compound sentence contained only factual declarations. We were on a beach. My son was sitting in a hole.
The woman seemed frustrated that I could not follow her. "A wave could come up and drown him!" she exclaimed, exacerbated. It was, I should add, high tide, and we were sitting next to the dune, miles from the water.
A slap in my child's face, this was not, but it was yet another slap in mine, and my figurative cheeks are raw from them: the countless run-ins with other parents, other people who feel it is their duty to tell me and you what we're doing wrong. "Thank you for your input," I said. Then I turned my attention right back to my book. My adolescent daughter simply laughed and kept reading.
None of us are perfect parents, and our children are far from perfect, but unless I'm beating my toddler in the middle of a Walmart--which I'm proud to report I haven't resorted to yet, not that I haven't been tempted--your unsolicited advice is not welcome. In fact, let's call it by its proper name: aggression.
Now, far be it from me to tell you how to parent, but whenever my toddler becomes aggressive, he is given a time out. So let's make a deal: next time you tell me how to parent my children, I will simply pick you up, carry you over to the corner and into the naughty chair, and we will count to ten until you can calm down, apologize, and promise to try to do better.
DEBORAH COPAKEN KOGAN
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Leo in his favorite T-shirt
Cover of USA Today from August 20th, 1991. That's me on the left, in the black jacket.
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Comments
But let me tell you a real beach story I wish someone had warned us about... as children, we spent all our summers in a family house across the road from the beach, in Brittany and of course my parents had warned us: look both ways before crossing, don't go w/strangers, don't go swimming unless an adult is there etc...and we sort of followed the rules.
One summer, as we were all on the beach, my parents, brothers, sisters & cousins, one of my brothers, Dominique and his cousin, Hubert decided to dig two holes in the sand, separated by about one meter and to make it more interesting, they thought it would be great to dig a tunnel between the two. Dominique started under the tunnel and it collapsed on him. We rushed to get him out but the more sand we would throw away, the more just kept falling back on him and he died asphyxiated.
My parents never got over it, although "life goes on". It was the most horrifying moment of my life, our lives and Hubert is still feeling guilty to have survived. It was a "freak" accident, it "made" the national press as a warning to all and my parents got hundreds of letters of support and sympathy from total strangers and from all over the world but it was small consolation.
So, do not judge well-meaning people too harshly when they give you unwanted advice: they might, just might be right !!!
You know me, and you know that I admire you, your energy, talent and fantastic multi-tasking power and you know that I don't mean to scare you with this story; it is just that your story brought back memories, and emotions of so long ago.
A big hug and lots of love, Cat
the best!