Some things, aren’t permanent

We were leaving a birthday party one day. You were, what, Boone, maybe 3-years-old? Your balloon slipped out of your hand and floated up and away. For a moment, we watched it go in silence. It flew over the fence, past the lone palm tree at the edge of the parking lot, higher and higher, growing smaller against the plain blue sky.

Your tears came seconds later—heavy, racking sobs that blocked any speech. I did my best to console you, treating it as a teachable moment. Joys in life are fleeting, I told you, balloons drift away or pop. It happens, it’s okay. Some things aren’t permanent. I thought this was the best way to handle the mishap, rather than work out how to get a replacement balloon from the facility we’d just exited. Then, through your tears, came the true reason for your sorrow…

You weren’t upset that you lost your balloon. You were concerned that your balloon, now traveling out there in the big wide world, would get hurt. You didn’t want it to be alone. My God, Boone. In that exchange, you captured everything I feel about you and your brother. Someday, you will float away, perhaps unexpectedly. (No matter how much preparation, I’m sure I won’t be ready.)

But, I’ll have to remember my reply to you that day. I said, “Balloons are meant to float away. They’re meant to have big adventures. Maybe we can try to imagine what kind of adventure your balloon is undertaking right now.”

I saw in your eyes that you were trying to believe what I said. And I saw this was not the time for a teachable moment. I darted back inside the facility and snatched another balloon from another birthday party’s arrangement. You were placated on the way home, but I could tell you were still worried about your balloon floating across the globe.

Boone, someday you’ll float away from me. And I will cry heavy, racking sobs because you’re out there in the big wide world and I won’t want you to get hurt. I won’t want you to be alone. And when I have my wits about me, I’ll remember that moment in the parking lot after a birthday party and what I told you—that you’re meant to have big adventures. But, it won’t help, just as my words didn’t help you that day. 

Some things, aren’t permanent.

This post originally appeared on The Daddy Complex.

CTFD: The only parenting method you 'll ever need

I know many people want to stay current with the latest parenting trends—attachment parenting, minimalist parenting, Tiger Mother parenting, et al. Well, I’ve stumbled upon a new technique that will guarantee your child grows up to be an exemplary student and citizen. It’s called CTFD, which stands for “Calm The Fuck Down." And that’s not a message to give your kids. It’s for you.

Using CTFD assures you that — whichever way you choose to parent — your child will be fine (as long as you don’t abuse them, of course). To see it in action, here are some sample parenting scenarios and how CTFD can be employed:

• Worried your friend’s child has mastered the alphabet quicker than your child? Calm the fuck down.

• Scared you’re not imparting the wisdom your child will need to survive in school and beyond? Calm the fuck down. 

• Concerned that you’re not the type of parent you thought you’d be? Calm the fuck down. 

• Upset that your child doesn’t show interest in certain areas of learning? Calm the fuck down. 

• Stressed that your child exhibits behavior in public you find embarrassing? Calm the fuck down! 

Yes, using the CTFD method, you’ll find the pressure lifted and realize your child loves you no matter what, even if they’ve yet to master the alphabet. You’ll also learn that whether or not you’re the best parent in the world, as long as you love your child, they’ll think you are and that’s what matters. Plus, CTFD makes you immune to those that prey upon the fears of new parents, like pseudoscientists and parenting authors. To use CTFD, just follow these simple steps:

1. Calm the fuck down. 
2. There is no second step. 

So, ignore all those other parenting trends and stick to CTFD. You’ll be glad you did and so will your kid.

This post originally appeared on The Daddy Complex.
Image via Kellie L. Folkerts/Shutterstock.

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