Proud Parenting Moments..

Vol 1.

So this past weekend, the weather was beautiful...when I say beautiful, I mean upper 60's, and breezy! I love fall.

So I let our little Boston Terrier out to go potty. Like every other time I let the dog out, our little 2 1/2 year old wants to go outside with me.

So no problem, I let go out with me. The dog does his business, and I tinker around on the deck for a minute or two to let the boy play outside for just a few minutes. When I feel like it is time to go back into the house, I tell Eli, come on buddy, back in the house. Like other 2 or 3 year olds, he doesn't want to...so I start doing what most parents my age do...I start counting...

Eli knows that if I get to three he is not going to be a happy boy.

1...Eli, come on buddy.

2...ELI, BACK IN THE HOUSE....

He goes right through the front door, and no problems.

Then I look at the dog.

"Tank, it's time to go in the house"...Sometimes he likes to play outside, but since he doesn't like to stay in the yard if left alone, I look at the dog again...

"Tank, HOUSE NOW"...

"ONE, why in the heck am I counting to the dog"...I go in the house and get the remote to his training collar, and he comes running in the house...

Vol. 2

So the very next day, Eli and I are out playing in the yard. We are playing with his big dump truck, and then he decides that we need to play ball. So I go get his Sesame Street ball. Just a normal kick ball. We are kicking it back and forth to each other. Then he wants daddy to kick it really hard.

It goes flying across the driveway into the side yard. We both run over to get it and kick it again. Then Eli learns that he can kick it into the shed and it will bounce back, and you can kick it again. So we do that for a while, and then we are kicking it back and forth again.

So Eli is far away from me. He kicks it to me, and then tells me to kick it back.

I have my eye on the ball, I am concentrating on making it a good kick. I connect perfectly with the ball. It was a kick that the kids on the playground of elementary school would have been proud of. The one thing I didn't notice was Eli was running towards me....

The ball flies right into his face....he doesn't even fall, he doesn't even cry...

He looks at me and says..."Ouch, that funny daddy."

All I could do was laugh. Does that make me a bad parent?

When I told my wife, she laughed too...does that make her a bad parent?