Bad Parenting Decisions
Yesterday, I let both kids skip school to attend the Seahawks parade in downtown Seattle. I know. I barely recognize myself. We are not a football family, and typically when the kids tell us what their friends are allowed to do, we are quick to joke (or not joke): “How sad they have such terrible parents.”
But times have been grim, and my personal brain trust was unanimous: Of course you must let them go. As one friend explained, it’s “an irreplaceable experience of unity and joy.” And it was:
There were grave consequences, though. Not to the kids, but to my writing. I will explain.
Every week, I enlist at least one—sometimes both—of my kids to serve as my editor. I do this partly because I don’t think they write enough, and I want to talk about writing with them as much as I can. But also: they make my posts better. Teens are impatient and ruthless, two extremely valuable editorial qualities.
In retrospect, I should have held my AI post until they had time to work with me. Lesson learned and here you go: this leaner version is way better.
Image: Anna and Peter Walton soaking up the happy vibes. Photos taken by fellow truants, who shall remain anonymous.
You made the right call. I am grateful that back in February 2014 my UW manager gave me and a coworker (a fellow Hawks fanatic) the nod to skip out of work and head downtown on a freezing cold day to watch Marshawn Lynch and his teammates throw Skittles off of duck boats in the Super Bowl parade. I had missed out on the SuperSonics championship parade in 1979 (perhaps my Dad didn't approve of such things, even though he was a big fan like me; or maybe he just had to work). I never made it to a Sounders title parade, or a Storm parade. This was my one shot.
And as a bonus, my 16-year-old son played hooky from school (I'm not even sure he asked permission) and met up with me on the parade route. I have a great photo of us together. A cherished memory. Pro sports may be kind of silly, but it brings friends and family (and even whole cities) together in joy and celebration (and in the case of the Mariners, crushing disappointment). We need that. We will always need that.