Dad Diary

 My daughter's teacher is a mindfulness coach; that's her side hustle. She taught my son--as well--and she often seemed to think that my son's aggression could respond well to soothing ideas from a vague "Eastern spiritual" realm.

"When he wants to hit his sister, encourage him to breathe deeply....remind him to seek out his cozy corner...."

(In fact, these strategies did not work. What Joshua needed was a linebacker--ready to remove him from fraught scenarios at all times. No words. Just pick up the little tornado and place it in a new spot. In this way, I am like the "magic claw" in an arcade game.)

When I visited Ms. Y's class last week, my goal was to read a brief story, but Ms. Y sort of derailed my presentation. The story alluded to "the beauty all around us," and Ms. Y took this as a cue. She needed to respond with a speech about mindfulness. "Children, in our busy lives, we fail to notice the flowers, and the clouds, and the blades of grass. But....if we hug ourselves...and we seek out our cozy corner...."

I then made the error of alluding to a lullaby I once performed for Susie, while she was still in the hospital. This of course led to fifteen separate comments from fifteen children: "I was in a hospital once." "I stayed in a hospital." "My brother was in a hospital...."

My daughter seemed to enjoy this visit, but her mind can wander. "Why aren't we home right now? Where are my cartoons? Where is Tiny Doggie?"

And so I headed back toward my car. A chorus of comments--"I like hospitals!" "I had stitches! So many!!!!"--followed me, and followed me, and followed me down the hallway.