When I write one of these parenting pieces, I usually take some topic or experience I feel strongly about, think it through until I know exactly how I want to present it and then try to craft a tight, convincing narrative. It’s sort of what’s expected when you’re writing for a magazine or established website. Pick a strong point of view, make a strong argument, pepper it with some humor, wrap it up with a pearl of wisdom – all in 800 clickable words or less.
The problem is that the moments in my life as a Dad where I have enough certainty/clarity to say something that is both convincing and worthwhile are further and further apart. So I write a new piece every few months (maybe) and I live most of the time in the land of unfinished thoughts and unpolished ideas.
Today, I’m giving myself permission to write without some snazzy epiphany to tag at the end. I’m putting down the raw feed of what’s going on in my head at this moment and that is all about…
Rough Housing with a Boy and a Girl
I’m a big fan of rough housing. My son and I throw down with everything from pillows to nerf guns to balled up, stinky socks. Chasing each other around the house or wrestling wildly on the bed is a big part of our father/son play ritual. As his little sister has gotten a bit older and sturdier, she’s begged to be included in the action and, of course, I’ve happily said yes. (even my son likes to have her involved for the ‘kids v dad’ vibe) It’s true that she gets thumped from time to time and there are occasional tears, but it’s never serious and it seems like a good opportunity to teach her that the little thumps and wallops of life are not worth a lot of energy or drama.
It can be a little tricky to navigate exactly how we play when she’s involved. I absolutely don’t want my son to get the sense that we do it differently because she’s a girl. But she is also younger and smaller and – as a personality – a little less interested in being roughed up. Still, keeping gender out of it matters to me, so I do my best to compensate for her age and size without making it a boy/girl thing. I whack them both with pillows, chase, tackle and tickle them as equals.
Sort of. But then there’s this moment.
The other night, Pebbles and I were having a one-on-one tickle, wrestle-fest and, at some point, I found myself on top of her, holding her arms down and zerberting her belly as she cackled with glee. In that moment, I had the fleeting, sickening thought that I was – somehow – setting up a dynamic in which a man overpowering her was an okay thing.
I know, I know – it’s tickle time, not a frat party. And she’s six and there was nothing but unbridled joy and play happening. I know all that is true. She was laughing and telling me how she was going to tickle my feet (my only known tickle time weakness). But I was – just for a split second – genuinely worried. Because here was my daughter, pinned down and helpless and I thought, “Is this how it starts? Is this creating some expectation of how she will interact with men in her life?” Karen and I have spent countless hours talking about the importance of building a strong, self-confident young woman. Am I undermining that? Or would I being undermining it to exclude her and/or treat her differently?
I’ve never had this thought with my son. If there are any overtones to our wrestling, it’s nothing more than the young lion learning to tussle from the old lion. I pin him down, he laughs and struggles (and eventually licks one of my hands, causing me to recoil in disgust and facilitating his escape). It never feels like a loaded situation.
I tell myself all the time that one of my roles in my son’s life is to show him what it means to be a man: a husband, a father, a friend. Knowing that guides an incredible amount of my behavior.
Likewise, one of my role’s in my daughter’s life is to model what she should expect from men. It’s important that she see me do the dishes and cook (well, sometimes) and hold the door open for a stranger.
So what does that mean for rough housing? Is it harmless fun or bad precedent? My sense is that I am totally over-thinking it and, at this point in her life, it’s not ‘a thing.’ But the fact that I noticed it, the fact that it crossed my mind at all, definitely gives me pause.