I couldn’t have written this better myself.
I, like most parents, have this vague philosophy by which I’m attempting to raise the product of my uterus. Currently, it amounts to something like this: I don’t want to merely protect my daughter from the world; I want to prepare her for it. I don’t want to fence her in with electrified barbed wire and white pickets made to look like ‘love’, I want to expose her to the world she was brought into, the one she’s going to have to find her way through on her own someday. You know, with a yard that isn’t fenced in and windows we crack open at night in the summer, or some other equally obscure metaphor.
A few years back I made a ‘play date’ (man, that term always brings home ‘white-middleclass’ in the worst possible way… /cringe) with a co-worker. I had been putting off this little adventure for quite…
View original post 1,145 more words