Fuzzy Memories, Hopefully

I often wonder if my son, Jack, has seen or experienced anything yet that he’ll remember for a long time. He’s only four and a half, so despite his brilliance, I’m still inclined to think he won’t remember most of his life up to this point. But he’s got to be straddling the line of when his long-term memories will form. I can remember images, snapshots if you will, from my life when I was younger than five, but five seems to be the earliest age that I can vividly remember people and events.

So I worry that any day now I might do something that he’ll remember forever. I mean, I certainly teach him things that I hope he holds onto, like to always say ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ and don’t talk to strangers, but I’m talking about doing something inadvertently that will shape his opinion of me. For instance, if he walks into the living room tomorrow and sees me picking my nose, is he going to remember that for the rest of his life? Will he develop deep-seeded resentment over the fact that I tell him to use a tissue if he needs to blow his nose, only to find me elbow deep without a tissue in sight? Will he become the nose picker in school, constantly wiping boogers under the table and flinging them at girls? It’s a lot of pressure.

Jack is already to the point of grumbling under his breath and saying, “Come on, people,” whenever we’re stopped at a traffic light. So do I need to watch every little thing I say in the car to keep him from eventually developing road rage? Thank goodness his mother ran over that squirrel and not me.

What about the fact that I drink coffee every morning? Will he look at that and think I support the Colombian drug trade? You never know. Kids come to pretty wild conclusions. If you have a sibling, you unquestionably believed throughout your whole childhood that your parents liked him or her more than you, and you most likely continue to think it today. Why? Probably because your dad went to Jimmy’s championship basketball game at the same time your piano recital took place and you’ve hated him for it ever since. Your mom was at the recital, but that wasn’t good enough, was it? Again, a lot of pressure.

So here I am trying to look like a capable dad in front of my son; helping him when he needs it, having answers to all of his questions, and appearing able to take on any situation. However, no matter how hard I turn the damn wrench, the screws that attach his training wheels to his bike keep coming loose. Every time he rides it, he tells me the training wheels are coming loose again. And every time he says it, he looks at me disgustedly, no doubt questioning my sexuality.

I also worry that by mowing the lawn myself, he might think I hate immigrants. Now I know that sounds like a tired joke about lawn care being a popular profession among our Spanish friends to the south, but in all seriousness, the two houses directly across the street from us use a lawn-mowing service that is operated by Hispanic gentlemen. If my son doesn’t notice this now, he will eventually. And he’ll certainly form some sort of opinion about it, possibly an outrageous one. (For the record, I absolutely do not hate immigrants. I just don’t like them to be in my yard.)

Ultimately I want my kids to develop into well-rounded, successful, law-abiding citizens without me having to always set a good example. It’s hard enough to keep adults from forming negative opinions about you based on a completely innocuous moment (A guy can’t seem to text a few photos of his genitals anymore without getting called a pervert), but kids really know how to blow things out of proportion.

With that said, I guess I better come to terms with the fact that I have to be on ever-improving behavior. If I don’t want my son to grow up thinking that I pick my nose, then I’ll just have to do it at work.