A Note To Emily

Emily - Yesterday I yelled at you. You were trying to remove the plug-in air sanitizer from its socket. I know what you were trying to do, and why. It was in your way, in your attempt to squeeze into the corner to retrieve a toy. You are so bright, and I am amazed that it occurred to you to take this simple route to solve your problem. I have also noted your intelligence well enough to recognize what you were doing even as you reached for it. So I yelled.

Why did I have to yell? Because you are two years old and you have figured out that when I say no, you can ignore me. I can get loud, and sound vicious when I do. Adults have backed down from that tone in my voice, and since you have never heard it before, it is no surprise that you did too. This was my intention.

The result was also predictable, yet foreign thus far to me. Yes, you did stop, as I expected. You also began to cry. An understandable reaction to me scaring you. You should know that this had an equally strong impact on me. Seeing you crying and knowing that it was because I scared you, I who am supposed to be someone safe and reassuring, tore at my heart. I wanted to scoop you up and make it all right again. I tried, and was torn even more when you fled from me to your mother's arms.

This is the pain of a father. A pain that will repeat itself. Particularly when the tears of a confused and frightened toddler turn into the coherent phrase "I hate you." I would like nothing more than to never inspire that reaction from you. As your father, bound by heart and duty to protect you, I will say with all certainty that I will elicit that phrase from you more than once.

It is my job to be feared and hated at times by you, because like it or not, I will know better than you for a while yet. It is my job to use that to make sure you grow to your full potential. So you will not touch the stove again, you will not play with things that are a danger to you, or do things that are a danger to you (the last two tempered by your true understanding of the consequences) and you will do your homework and fulfill your responsibilities in life. You will also hate me for insuring this.

I have made a promise to you, even as you now sleep, on this night. I am willing to suffer that pain you have the unique power of causing me, and sacrifice the years as your buddy that I could have, on the hope that when you are the age that I am now and you read this you will know that, while everyone knows I am an asshole, in this regard that asshole made you who you are today. A person who, if I am enough of an asshole, will be much better off than I was when I wrote this.

I could be your best buddy, and I will try to be so as much as possible. However, I would do you a great injustice to sacrifice you in order to do so. So I sacrifice myself now, to the torture of the tears and "I hate you" declarations that are sure to come, in the hopes of that one moment when you look back on those years and realize that it really was all about you. One thank you when you realize that will erase the pain of the intervening years. Even without that thank you, seeing you make yourself into something will certainly do the trick.

Know that I love you. Know that the pain I cause will never be greater than the pain I am trying to protect you from. I will do all that is humanly possible to protect you, including teaching you to protect yourself.

The rest will just be life, or something close to it.