Sunday, February 22, 2009

Couchon—a.k.a. suspect parenting

Yesterday, heading home from the Atomium, Naomi was pushing Amelia in the stroller. Amelia had long since removed her shoes, as she is wont to do, but now she wanted to get out of the stroller and walk in her tights on the dirty sidewalk. I said she could put on her shoes, get on my shoulders, or stay in the stroller. She was unimpressed with any of these options, so I carried her unceremoniously under my arm, like she was an oversized football (American football!). I figured this way she's under control, she's no less happy than before (although no happier either), and she's not rewarded for bad behavior by being carried in a more comfortable fashion. It wasn't very dignified for her; me, I lost my dignity years ago.

So I'm walking down the sidewalk with my youngest continuing to bawl under my arm. And this elderly woman, who's walking her dog, turns and looks at me and I think says, "He la," or, "Hey there." I met her eyes neutrally, maybe a little challengingly, to see if she had any more specific criticism to level my way, and after a few seconds she shook her head and then continued on with her dog. (I might silently judge other parents on occasion, and all I ask is that I'm treated in kind: Keep your judgments of my parenting silent! I don't have to take this. This is America! Oh, wait a second....)

Naomi witnessed the exchange, and later we debriefed each other. Whereas I thought this woman was critical of me, Naomi thought she was critical of Amelia! Naomi thought Belgians are generally strict disciplinarians, so they would not approve of a misbehaving child. Furthermore, Naomi thought she heard the woman add, "Couchon," which literally means pig. Naomi thought the woman said it to mean "misbehaving child" or something like that. I didn't hear the woman say, "Couchon," but if she said it then I would assume she meant something like "asshole father."

The more Naomi and I discussed it, the more we felt vindicated in our respective, opposite assessments. Oh, well, the one thing I think we can all agree on is that my parenting is above reproach. :-)

2 comments:

  1. ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!! Boy can I relate. I had the pleasure of schlepping Andrew (as a toddler) the length of West Towne mall, while he was screaming his head off. And Friday night I was THAT person in the line at Woodman's....not enough cashiers, supper time, and Jayden had had enough just as we got up to the check out. We are above reproach. We are, in fact, to be lauded because we have the patience to keep schlepping when there is a noise worse than jack hammers going off under our arms.....

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  2. Having been raised by two Europeans I can tell you that it's NEVER the parent's fault. Quite the opposite it's the child who's at fault/wrong/morally degraded. Not ignorant or stupid but accused of making bad choices. Yours in suspended judgment, Mom/Omi

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