(Yes, I know–I’m tardy to party. Sorry for the late post, folks).
No, I’m no making fun of people with lisps. Nor am I commenting upon that played out MasterCard meme (“master the possibilities”). This is not that post. Besides, I don’t make fun of people. It’s not what I do (well, maybe a little). But not today.
It’s cliché to say, but what the hey! Parenting is hard–like really hard. Sometimes unexpectedly so.
Like when my son needs help with his math homework.
You see, math was never my forté. I’ve always gravitated more more towards the language arts (but would never dare say I’m a cunning linguist). I digress.
Of late, my son–who’s strongest subject has always been math–has asked for my assistance in solving complex equations regarding volume, mass, area, etc.
Thanks to the “googles,” I’ve been able to provide him with the tools he needs to get the work done. But as for my math “skillz,” well, raw earth–sifted fine–is still just dirt.
In the midst of a recent marathon math session, I came to discover that my parenting skills are similarly sifted. What do I mean?
In the midst of quadratic equations, or quadrilaterals, or some such, my son asked “Dad, what’s S & M? I heard it at school.” I hesitated, I hedged, thousand things went through my mind; I said:
“S & M? You mean ‘spatial mechanics,’ right?”
“Dad!!!” he said, seeing right through my parental subterfuge. What was I to do? On the one hand, I don’t want him finding out from his friends at school; on the other, well, I don’t want him growing up any faster than he already is…
Which left me, deer like, in the headlights of his probing gaze. What to say, what to say?
“You give me a word–any word–and I show you how the root of that word is Greek.” (Thanks My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding, but not what I said).
What I said was “Son, you’re thirteen. I’m going to have to ask you to table this question for a few years, ok? I’m your dad, I love you, and I just think the knowledge I would impart by answering your question would be too heavy for your soul right now. Besides, that Blizzard you just ate? You’re going to want it to stay in your stomach.”
“Dad!!! I’ll just ask at school.”
“No, son, please don’t. Please just trust me, ok?”
And so it went…
What do you think? Was that a parenting fail? What would you do? How would you have “mathtered” that possibility?
This has nothing to do with the preceding post, but as I did last week, here are some “Friday Faves:”
New to me blogs:
The Greatest Blog of All Time so says The Joseph Craven
Mandie Marie <--I think she's Canadian, eh? (Incidentally, those two preceding folks seem to have a thing going on).
The Analagous Truth, where Arny Sanchez brings biblical life lessons to light via pop culture
Speaking of pop culture: how have I not been following Clay Morgan’s EduClaytion? (Incidentally, Clay, I totally didn’t search bomb you this week. Ok, I did. Like Jim Carrey (as Fletcher Reede) said in Liar, Liar, “It was me.” Watcha gonna do about it?
That’s all. Peace out, peeps.