STI: I'm not your Superdad

Dec 29, 2004
I'm not your Superdad
by Mathew Pereira

I ONCE rushed my youngest son Marcus to the hospital near my home after a fall left him with a gash at the back of his head.

It was close to midnight and there was no anaesthetist but the doctor said the stitching could not wait.

He went ahead without my son getting anything to numb his pain.

Slightly over three years old then, he was straightjacketed with a blanket so that he could not struggle while the doctor did his job.

Throughout, he screamed, yelled and looked pleadingly at me. The look in his eyes said: 'Help me, Daddy, I am in pain.'

Like any parent, I wanted to do something that would ease that, if not relieve him of the pain altogether. But with him screaming away, I could not even comfort him.

When he was being stitched up, I had already clocked six years of parenting. Clearly, I had not gotten over this urge to intervene to spare my child pain and heartache.

But this reflex is something which I have often kept in check right from kid No.1. I felt they needed to take tumbles and falls and pick themselves up.

Of course, I have friends who disagree with my approach.

An over-protective father and a good friend of mine used to follow his child around to make sure that he did not trip, lose his balance or slip.

He was prevented from doing many things and the two words he heard most were: 'Peter, don't.'

'Peter, don't step out of the house without your shoes, it would cut your feet.'

'Peter, don't step on the grass' - he would get bitten by insects.

'Peter, don't run, you will perspire and get a rash.'

He was not allowed to go to the playground because it was deemed not hygienic.

'Your child will think his name is Peter Don't,' I used to tease my friend.

Another parent I know tried to get his son in national service posted out from a demanding combat unit to one where he could do a 9 to 5 job. Needless to say, he failed.

This not wanting to be superdad who bails the kids out all the time has also meant that I grit my teeth and let them face the consequences of their actions.

This is something that can be extremely difficult to do.

Once, Marcus was caught with a sheet of paper going around his class. It had landed on his desk and he picked it up to read the note others had been giggling about earlier.

The teacher spotted him. In the piece of paper were some comments that were not exactly part of school curricula.

Summed up, the note said something like 'Teacher is pregnant but she is wearing a G-string. Ha ha.'

Marcus was terrified. He came home crying. This time, he insisted that he was innocent.

He wanted us to call the teacher and clear his name. We did not.

We told him: 'You checked what was in the paper so you face the music like your fellow voyeurs.'

I heard nothing more of that incident. I never found out if he was punished or if his teacher was pregnant or wore a G-string.

For me, it was important that my children experienced pain, tasted defeat and realised that not winning were part of life.

They know that whenever they are beaten in whatever, they are to go up to the victor and congratulate him, but at the same time resolve to try and beat the person the next time.

Sure, they still cry when they lose, they still feel depressed but they pull out of it without feeling that it is the end of the world.

They also learn about discipline - biding their time and not walking out of the team just because they are not in the first 11.

There were many times when I had felt that intervening would have made me, as well as my kids, feel better in the short term but I resisted it because I was convinced it would do them only damage in adulthood.

But I will also confess that there were times when I had not meant to intervene but capitulated at the last moment.

Doing the right thing is not easy or clear-cut.

When I was mulling over some matter concerning my son recently, a good friend told us: 'Would you be able to live with the fact that you did not do all you could have for your son regarding this critical matter?'

Sometimes, bailing out the kids is necessary. I just remind myself that it should not be the default mode.

The tricky part, of course, is knowing when and under what circumstances I should do it.