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Getting Dragged Along
Kids don't just grow up one day. It's a gradual
process. Along the way, though, one sometimes
notices subtle shifts. I think I 'm feeling one
this week.
We just got back from a camping trip. My plan
had been to recreate the magical time I had as a
child, camping with my dad. I remember being
enthralled with the wilderness, and eager to prove
that I could cut the mustard in the great
outdoors.
My eight year old daughter, Molly, however, did
not fit the role I cast for her. She likes to be
outside, but she doesn't quite see the point of
driving a long way and then hiking forever. The
hiking part is especially abhorrent. Our house is
under the redwoods and she can catch frogs in the
nearby creek. Why walk for miles?
She complained all the way to the trailhead. I
insisted that this was an important part of her
education.
"It's only two miles to the lake," I enjoined
her, trying to sound as chipper as Yuell Gibbons in
the old Grape Nuts commercials. "It'll be fun!"
My partner, Amy, and I tossed on our day packs
and headed down the trail. Molly refused to follow.
Our packs were light compared to the heaviness we
felt when we heard Molly, 150 feet behind us.
"I'm not coming."
"Then you can stay there and we'll see you when
we get back." I had anticipated a protest and I was
determined not to cater to it.
"You can't leave me here." She tried to call my
bluff.
"Don't look back," I whispered to Amy. We walked
on.
Half an hour later we stopped to look at the
map. Molly had maintained her 150 foot distance
behind us the whole way. I was tracking her
whereabouts by the distant sound of her occasional
whimpers. She was miserable, and it was difficult
for Amy and I to enjoy the hike under these
circumstances.
The map showed that in our haste to get started
(and not indulge Molly) we had taken the wrong
trail. We turned around and headed back. Molly felt
quite vindicated by our mistake. It proved her
point that hiking is useless. I wondered how I was
going to convince her to join us on the correct
trail once we got back to the trailhead.
"I am not hiking one more step," Molly announced
with all the authority an eight year old can
muster. Neither Amy nor I was up for another power
struggle. We had succeeded in getting her to hike
for an hour, but in winning that battle we had lost
the war.
I will not plan another hike with Molly for a
while, not until she evidences some interest of her
own. It takes a lot of motivation to hike for miles
on a hot day. I feel that motivation, because I
relish the rewards I get from the experience.
Molly, however, is different.
It wasn't always this way. Molly used to come
with me wherever I went. She was happy to be along
for the ride, happy just to be with her dad. As she
grows older, however, her own preferences are
becoming more clear. To spend time together, we
have to work harder to find something we both want
to do. I can't just drag her along.
It scares me to think of how different we may
eventually become. When she is a teenager, will
there be anything we both like to do? I guess if we
are to stay close I am going to have to take up
some of her interests. That will be a challenge. I
have spent a lot of years getting clear on what I
do and don't like to do. I do like Greg Brown. I
don't like Brittney Spears. I do like working in
the garden. I don't like painting my toenails. But
maybe it will be good for me to keep an open
mind.
© 2008, Tim
Hartnett
Other Father Issues,
Books
* * *
Your children need your presence more than your
presents. - Jesse Jackson
Tim
Hartnett, Ph.D. is a licensed Marriage and Family
Therapist in private practice in Santa Cruz, CA. He
specializes in Individual Counseling, Couples
Therapy, and Divorce Mediation. He can be reached
at 831.464.2922 or through his website:
www.TimHartnett.com
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