I don’t have all the answers; I just have my stories.
I have no parenting degrees or any real-world certifications from some institution of high knowledge. Some might say I’m full of shit. But my life is real and full of experiences.
For years, I’ve was asked to share the parenting strategies and methods I used with my daughters.
A couple insisted that I write a book. That was preposterous, I thought.
Although I was confident in my parenting approach, I did hear the critics in my head. Worse yet, I listened to the worst critic in my head- my own.
Perhaps I did get lucky.
They both just popped out being respectful.
Perhaps I do have it easy.
They’re only five years old, then 10, then 15, then…
Perhaps I struck the lottery.
I only have them every other weekend.
Perhaps I’m just one luckiest bastard in the world. Twice.
So I didn’t push harder. Instead, I played small and listened to the critics. I didn’t want other parents to feel like I was a know-it-all because I obviously didn’t.
Then one day, I looked up and noticed that they were essentially functioning mini-adults.
They’re good human beings with a passion for helping people, a willingness to work hard, and a desire to learn.
Well, shit. I guess it’s time to write that book.
