“Have a good day, buddy. Be…”
“-A good guy,” he tells me.
That’s Jasper’s constant- and recently new- refrain. This preschooler’s mantra has become oddly more effective than the looming TIME OUT on the couch, more than the seemingly random removal of toys, and definitely more than the promise that, if he’s patient, something nebulously awesome will happen in a half hour or so.
Be a good guy.
Since this past summer, it’s seemed an adorably harmless and sweetly moral-compassy catchphrase for a two year-old to have. But since the election, it’s become more of a call to action.
(And can I just take a quick sec to say a sternly maternal thankyounothankyou to our President-Elect and this oh-so recent election for making it even harder to raise a child in the coming years? Good Lord. When name-calling, horrific displays of personal character, and bold-faced lies make the swap from gossip rags to the front page of major newspapers, it goes beyond teaching to prove that basic decency is no longer something that’s required in adulthood. Super duper thanks.)
But back to my son.
So, he’s two- almost three. And even though he occasionally has full body freak outs and is only sporadically solid with a soup spoon, he’s a really good guy.
On it.
He’s empathetic. He’s a great hugger. He understands the importance of wandering off with a good book about construction vehicles. He knows how to set the table (if you don’t mind the appearance of another fourteen or so forks on said “set table.”) He listens, he waits his turn- usually- and thinks playing “Daddy” is one of the best games there is. Like I said, a good guy.
That’s not to say that he’s a shrinking violet. He pipes up when needed (and sometimes even when totally not needed.) Occasionally those hugs make way for a full body tackle o’ joy. (We’re working on that one.)
My job in raising this kid (and his big sisters) hasn’t changed, but it has been tinged with more vigilance on my part. Because, let’s be honest; this year has really driven home the fact that repercussions have failed to exist or matter or last longer than one news cycle in our tweet-addled, reality show-addicted culture.
As a parent, that terrifies me.
As a parent of a little guy growing up in this culture, that will not stand.
Because, despite the many, many, many layers of privilege in which my family gets to wrap itself, this kid will learn to speak up in the face of misogyny, racism, classism, and inequality in every form. Sometimes it’ll involve pen and paper, sometimes fists. And when it’s fists I’ll be furious, I’ll be so maternally rageful, I’ll be so worried for my baby and wish I could wrap him back up in a million soft blankets again- but I’ll also be a little bit proud. (Once I’m sure his bones and spirit are good, I’ll be a little bit proud.)
Is this what I want? Nah, not in the least. But just as I’m teaching my daughters about advocacy and safety, my impossibly small son needs to start now, too. Being a Good Guy in the United States is pretty darned important right now, and we have so many loved ones with so much to potentially lose. Raising kids entitled to the whole of the world has never been the goal; ensuring a new generation of humans who spread kindness, live their truths- while supporting others’ truths- and not accepting the cowardly, hateful underbelly of social media has always, always been my plan for our kids.
As for those “good guy” role models? No, it won’t be the President-Elect, but Jasper’s Dad (and a horde of wonderful men in his life) happens to wear that badge really, really well.
He’s almost three. And I want better for him. So he’ll have to be better for him. For every Brock Turner or Donald Trump, there’ll be a Jasper Schoeny. (And I can bet there’ll be more. I have a good feeling about it.)
It’s a start.
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