ONCE BITTEN, TWICE DIED

One of my daughters is a bit shy, so I was really happy that she was trying to socialise with a young boy about her age. Until he bit her.

By the time I got to her, the little kid had scampered off. The look on her face as it crumpled up, was not so much from the physical hurt, but the inability to understand that someone who she was trying to be friends with, would deliberately hurt her. I think there was a tiny part of both of us that died.

Maybe I'm just feeling tired and emotional today. Maybe I should get a grip and realise that it certainly won't be the first time that she'll get hurt. Maybe I should tell her to toughen up. Life's a bitch - get used to it. Welcome to the bull$#¡+.

Maybe I shouldn't be such a mean, horrible daddy and teach her forgiveness. Maybe she'll grow up to be a saint and forgive them the second, third and hundredth time she's bitten or hurt.

It was probably a fairly minor wound to her heart. It'll heal over. She'll forget it soon enough. I need to hope that the accumulation of scars won't harden her heart and turn her into a bitter, cynical adult.

Prevention is always better than cure. We need to teach our children right from the very start the importance of Matthew 7:12 - the often ignored or forgotten philosophy of "Be Nice".

This is taken from my facebook page, "Mean, Horrible Daddy", a (normally) fun look at parenthood from a father's less-than-rosy viewpoint.
Mean, Horrible Daddy