I never wanted to raise proper children.
Good little girls and boys who sat quietly, did their homework, followed directions.
Rather, I always wanted to raise horrible little rascals that touched things they weren't supposed to touch, turned pots and pans into musical instruments, destroyed their toys to figure out how they where put together, asked questions without a single moment of doubt or hesitation even if it made people uncomfortable.
Rebellious little monsters with no fear of rejection, no respect for authority, no regard for social standing.
To keep that same innocence and thirst for learning that they where born with.
And I knew right away, that I had failed. It's an impossible task to fight the influence of an entire world. And in many ways as a parent, It's a lot easier to fold, to tell them to sit and be still, to stop making all that noise, to stop jumping on the bed. Because it upsets your mother, it upsets the neighbors, it upsets the teachers and aunts and uncles when you don't behave like a proper adult even though your just 3-17.
My children, are very well behaved, very respectful, very well mannered, doing very well in prestigious schools and people praise them for it.
But I'm ashamed of myself. For not doing worse. Because caving into the pressure made my life easier. Made my wife complain less, made my family and in-laws question my parenting less, made the world more accepting.
I'm ashamed. For not jumping on the bed with them, for not smashing more pots with them, for going around filling the holes dug in the yard instead of making them wider, for being so reserved. I wish I had made more messes, dove into mud and made more noise.
I raised my children well in the way the world wanted me to. And I hope that in doing so, I didn't create more cogs.
