Fear Father

Earlier this month, I had a church meeting in the evening. So Amy and I put the kids to bed, I told them that I had a meeting and that mommy was going to stay home with them, and then I headed out.

When I returned home, Amy told me that not long after I left the house, Aaron called out to Amy from the top of the stairs and said he had left a toy downstairs. When Amy reluctantly gave the all-clear for Aaron to come downstairs to retrieve his toy, Amy told me Aaron gingerly looked around to see if I was around before breathing a sigh of relief, finding his toy, and bouncing back to bed. She said it was clear he wanted to see if the coast was clear before he came downstairs, since I am far less accommodating than Amy is concerning after-bedtime sorties outside of the bedroom.

One can go overboard here, of course, but I like that my kids have a healthy sense of fear of me. I want them to be loving and affectionate with me, granted, but I also want them to understand that I am the boss under this roof, and my way is the way. Fortunately, their fear of me does not negate their ability to also see me as silly, caring, or generous.

So I feel like I have struck a good balance so far. Now if I can just extend my fearsomeness to would-be suitors when my kids get old enough for that.