PARENTING: Turning into our own parents

BY JONATHAN HUNLEY
FOR THE STAFFORD COUNTY SUN
Published: August 27, 2008

Of all the revelations in raising a child, one of the most striking is a transformation, not with the offspring but with the parent.
Its onset is subtle, but it sure makes a splash when it hits.

I refer, of course, to the moment(s) when you discover that you’ve turned into your own parents.

A few of these instances have transpired over the more than two years since my son’s birth, but one seemed particularly noteworthy. I’ve written here before about Jackson’s fondness for a certain purple dinosaur, and this particular scenario revolved around the character, whose name rhymes with “Schmarney.”

It was a week ago, on a day when we didn’t have daycare, and the lad had already made his way through two videos featuring said dino, one that also showcased Mother Goose, and another that focused on zoo animals.

That meant Jackson had, before lunchtime, undertaken a full hour of viewing, including sales pitches and FBI warnings — these were actual videotapes, if you can believe any of us oldies still still use them.Then after barely an hour more had passed, the youngster, selecting diaper-changing-table reading, pulled out a book of the same ilk.

And that’s when it happened, ladies and gentlemen. As soon as the words dribbled from my lips, I knew I was done for:

“You’re going to turn into a ‘Barney.’ “

Oh, no. I’ve turned into my parents!

As when Ralphie shoots his eye out at the end of “A Christmas Story,” no forewarned incident has ironically seemed so shocking.

We all know that we pick up traits from our parents — my wife often says I sound like my dad, especially when tackling home-improvement projects —  but a fondness for a specific food or sports team isn’t the same as this. No, this is much worse.

What’s next? When Jackson starts to ask for money, will I claim that paper currency, despite its origins, doesn’t grow on trees? Will I describe large quantities with the phrase “forty-leven,” as in, “Michael Phelps has ‘forty-leven’ of those gold medals”?

One thing I know I won’t say, something that particularly frustrated me as a child: “Because I said so, that’s why.”

Hearing that phrase and subsequently trying to determine the real meaning about why something was forbidden has probably inspired more journalism careers than a thousand screenings of the “All the President’s Men” movie.

Indeed, considering this rebellion against my complete conversion into my parents, maybe I can stop the madness before it’s too late. Maybe I can forge ahead, employing 21st-century parenting tactics at will and eschewing the past.

That’s not so great, either. To be a truly “good” parent today, I would have to forbid Jackson all TV viewing, let him eat only organic, vegan fare and keep him in a plastic bubble when he’s outside lest he ingest any pollution save that from cars running on 100 percent ethanol.

So I guess it’s really OK if I turn into my folks.

I mean, look how well I turned out … Right?

Fredericksburg resident Jonathan Hunley is a columnist for Media General’s Stafford County Sun, and father to a 2-year-old son.