Raising Them Wrong--little alfa content

["Trimble" <trimblci@domain.elided>]

As a reminder for all us fathers to keep our feet on the ground, I relate
this personal experience from about a hundred years ago:
Yours truly is taking his daughter to nursery school in the rush-hour
morning; she is ensconsed in her safety seat in the back of the grocery
hauler. A minor, near-miss traffic situation ensues, one that I handle with
my usual cat-like reflexes and calm demeanor. Moments later, from the back,
comes the sweet, achingly beautiful piping voice that can come only from a
three-year-old girl who is loved inordinantly by the listener:
"Daddy? What's an asshole?"
(There were more encouraging moments, too, such as the time at age 4 when
she announced she wanted to marry Ray Charles, and at age 7, when she
dismissed my argument for buying a bra for the spider by saying, "Why do I
have to have that ugly thing on my car just so the next guy can take it off
and have a pretty car?")
She is 26 now, and knows full well what an asshole is, and she still think
bras on cars are a silly idea.


Mike Trimble
Denton, Texas
1989 Spider Veloce

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