And I couldn’t be prouder.

No, I’m not abusing my child, and don’t even go there. I’ve never raised my hand to her, and I think I would personally rip the spleen out of anyone who did. No, it’s extremely rare that I ever even raise my voice

All in all, she is an incredibly happy child, and the high point of my day is seeing her run to me and jump into my arms at the days end.

Today, there was no running, no jumping. I learn from the wife that she and the daughter had a little disagreement on the way home from school; nothing major, the daughter just said something unkind to the momma, and realized what she’d said and apologised. When she heard the garage door open, though, she rushed to the momma and said, “Please don’t tell daddy”.

The wife said “We don;’t keep secrets from daddy. No secrets, at all, ever.”
The daughter was in tears.

When I confronted her, she told me the whole tearful story.

When you’re trying to raise a child, and you have only the training of memory, and you hope not to make the mistakes your parents may have made, or the ones you see friends making, you often have no guide.

I do. My daughter was so fearful of my disaproval that she was afraid to tell me of even the most insignificant transgression. No, she knows nothing will stop me from loving her. She knows I’ll never hurt her. She knows she can make the wrinkly chin pouty look and only want to hug her and make it all better. She fears nothing as much as she fears my disaproval. It’s a teensy, tiny sign that just maybe, We Are Doing It Right.
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