I asked myself what I am doing to protect my own children from predators. Sure, I can start forbidding sleepovers. I can tell my kids that their body is theirs alone and no one is entitled to it. But what messages am I unwittingly sending them about how much they can trust me when they are hurt?
To a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
Society tends to impress upon our girls that they are supposed to act a certain way to be respected and look a certain way to be considered worthy. I don’t concern myself very much anymore with what people think of my daughter. I don’t have that luxury. My only concern is how she views herself.
I struggle with knowing just how much of my son's personality I need to let develop on its own and what parts of it I should nip in the bud. I want him to remain a carefree little boy, but I know he won't. And as he makes the hazard-frought journey into manhood, Daddybeard and I will have to equip him for the world we brought him into.
We need more people willing to step out of themselves. Even if you have no dog in the fight…you are human. That should be enough. We need more people like that.
I am not a fighter. If I say somebody’s about to “catch these hands” you can bet your last paycheck the most my hands are gonna be doing is typing furiously on a computer keyboard.
Miscommunicating in person the way we do takes a special mix of failed mind-reading and memory shortages, with a little selective deafness thrown in for good measure.