Love and Fear - I'm Cute, Don't Eat Me

"It is not a bad thing that children should occasionally, and politely, put parents in their place."
~ Sidonie Gabrielle Colette (French novelist and performer, 1873 - 1954)

    I have come to the conclusion that a human child has the second-best defense system in the whole of time and space. The first is, of course, the quantum-lock inherent to the Weeping Angels of Doctor Who. Only slightly less effective is the ability of a human child to look at a raging, red-eyed, roaring monster charging toward them with bared teeth and steam coming out of its ears - and flash a smile that immediately reduces this monster to a creature of goo and mush that somewhat resembles a parent in shape and size.
    While it's true that all children can use this power more or less effectively on the majority of adults, the degree of effect is directly proportional to the closeness of the relation, culminating at a peak effectiveness when it is an adult faced directly by their own offspring. To be sure, this defense system of children stands them in good stead, but its effect on the progenitors of the child's existence is very much the more interesting study.
     This defense mechanism inherent in children is nothing but pure, instinctive manipulation. When faced with blatant disobedience and defiance, a father's instinct is to crush all resistance. While born out of genuine care for the child, a father must be careful to temper this instinct using logic and understanding, because while the father may know what is best for a child, the child must learn many things by experiencing the consequences that follow naturally from negative actions. On the other hand, any father faced with enough defiance or enough danger to their child will become the monster mentioned in the first paragraph.
    I was discussing with a co-worker the other day an issue that we're having with Tahiri climbing on the table. This co-worker does not have children, but is fond of them. I had been updating him on Tahiri's developmental progress, and I closed that list of milestones with the phrase, "oh, and now she can climb."  The co-worker's eyes widened, and he asked, "What does she climb?"
    "Oh, anything she can," I replied. "The couch, the coffee table, my chair, the bookcase...really just anything."
    The look on his face was priceless as he asked, "Surely you don't just let her climb on those things?"  I laughed and explained that we did everything we could to keep her off of them, but it was an on-going struggle, concluding with the guess that she probably wouldn't learn to stay off of them until she fell off of something and hurt herself.
    At this, my co-worker looked uncomfortable and said, "Well, you don't want that to happen, though?"
    Hold on one second here. Where on this green earth do you get off asking such a stupid question. As a father, it is my duty and beloved responsibility to do everything I can to protect the most precious and defenseless being connected to my life, from any and all possible harm. Your question is out of line and insulting. But I digress.
    I was forced to explain that children do what children will, and oftentimes there's no way to truly stop them. You can prevent their actions one hundred times, but the hundred and first try they make will be when you're sneezing, when you've turned your head to tell the cat not to scratch the cabinets, or when you've leaned over to grab the remote to turn off that mildly annoying children's show that they're not watching anyway. Turn back, and sure enough, there's your child, in mid-air, leaping off of the coffee table and attempting to fly through the air to the papasan three feet away.
    The one thing that I didn't explain in this effort to explain the wiliness of children is that children are, due to their inherent defense system, masters of diversion and manipulation. Regarding the above events, only a few moments before the traumatic conclusion to the final attempt, there was a much more amusing attempt, which provides a perfect example of this trait. Tahiri had successfully managed to achieve her goal (Excelsior!) and was standing on our coffee table, proudly. I sternly told her to get down carefully, and she said, clearly, and with as much attitude as her 17-month-old mind and body could muster, "Dad...NO." My response was typical of my half of the parenting duo: "Tahiri. Down. Now!"  "HA! NO!"
    I, of course, began marching toward this defiant child, intending to curtail this attitude and enforce the safety rule that was being disregarded. She stared at me, wide-eyed and innocent, during my three-step trek from the trash can just over the baby gate to the living room table, and upon my arrival, stared uncomprehending up into my eyes.  "Tahiri, you're not to be on the table. Get. Down."  "Dad. I dance." She then proceeded to dance in a small circle across the top of the table, in a manner very similar to that of the Australian Aborigines.
    Up until that moment, I had been fully ready to enforce the rule as stated, including (this being the fourth or fifth time she had needed to be physically removed from the table) some manner of corporal punishment; a single swat on the diaper or the equivalent. Suddenly, though, confronted with my daughter dancing on the table and smiling sweetly up at me, I was unable to maintain my stern and imposing demeanor. I couldn't help but smile at her, and, taking her hands, lead her off the table. "Tahiri, I dance too." The two of us spent the next five minutes or so dancing - short enough to me, but to her very small, ever-growing brain, it must have seemed an eternity.
    I am not the only father to whom this has happened, nor will I be the last, but every father will attest that it is difficult to remain resolute in the face of an overwhelming barrage of cuteness and adorability.  I've seen evidence that a father's susceptibility to this form of manipulation continues well after childhood and even into the child's married life. Though others may become less affected by it over time, this instinctive ability of children to manipulate their father with a look that begs, "I'm cute, don't eat me," finds a weakness no father would voluntarily remove no matter what age his child is, and yet is a constant source of that awe-inspiring mixture of love and fear.