Last night I was in Facebook (…on Facebook?….at Facebook??), checking out a link from a tumbler blog that has caught the attention of regular peeps and the media. Found here at reasonsmysoniscrying.tumblr.com, this dad has found a most amusing way to handle his son’s frequent meltdowns.
Now, I’ve got 3 kids, and when they were toddlers the meltdowns sometimes came fast and furious, especially around meal time. The internet was still kinda young and fresh, and it was not yet a common thing to post pix of one’s self or family members for all and sundry to ooo, aww and gawk at. It was necessary to find some other way to deal with the stress of a toddler freakout. For the un-childed among you let me just say that once a kid gets going on a good wahhh session, it’s as hard to stop as freight train at top speed. You coddle, comfort, cringe, and even join in the cry, all to no avail. You can even choose to ignore. That doesn’t stop the grumpy little bugger, but hey, laundry’s piling up and the encroaching flood of tears makes good wash water.
There are those who think that parents who use their kids as blog material are thoughtless and cruel. They will grow up, Google themselves and find naked baby pictures and embarrassing “ain’t she sweet when she sleeps?!” shots in pink unicorn footie pyjamas. Or how about, “falling asleep with a French fry dangling from his lips!” Precious! And yes, I am guilty as charged for taking such a picture of my son. And no, you will never find it on the World Wide Web. Adults like to share what their kids do with the rest of the world, and according to some the result will be intense therapy and a guest appearance on Dr Phil. Which will lead to more therapy.
To be totally honest, I don’t think what this dad is doing is so bad. He’s approached a pain in the butt problem (the crying not the child), with humour. Apart from chugging an ice cold Smirnoff in 30 seconds, some days laughing maniacally was the only way I got through my eldest child’s Super-Huff. Granted, publicizing a child’s vulnerable moment is not the kind of thing I would do, but at least he isn’t being abused or shamed. Parents who force their teenage children to stand in the middle of the neighbourhood with signs around their necks, stating their latest transgression lose more points in my book.
Really, Generation “I” (Generation Internet, as I’ve dubbed them), have a blind spot when it comes to recognizing the perils of web-sharing of the personal kind. I highly doubt whether this little guy will even bat a tear be-dewed eyelash when he reads his father’s blog at the ripe ol’ age of 15.
There are no names mentioned, no address, not even a country (tho it’s most likely out of North America). I have more of a problem with Google Earth providing access to my whereabouts to every freak, ax-wielding serial killer who, thanks to the Street View feature, knows the colour of the hanging flowers on my porch.
All things being equal in the digital age, this will all blow over in about….
Hey, have you seen what’s trending on Twitter?!?