These past few months have seen the dramatic rise of democratic forces in several Middle Eastern countries. The citizens of Libya, Egypt and Syria have challenged the dictatorships that have ruled the political and social landscapes of these countries for decades. Freedom of choice and the rights of the individual have proven to be more powerful than the weapons of the loyalist armies and more fluid than the oil that flows so freely from the sands of these lands. No societal model is perfect, but one that discounts or marginalizes the populous is eventually doomed to failure. Tyrants can no longer count on citizens being ignorant and uneducated about the goings on of the world at large. Once a taste of freedom is savoured or even thought to be possible, people will choose the hard road every time in order to be able to sit at the table of democracy.
This serious, in tone, geopolitical preamble was necessary in order to bring me to the point of today's writing story. I'm usually not so cryptic. I think my 9 year old daughter may be an offspring of Moammar Khadafi, Hosni Muberek or Bashar al-Assad. It's not that she has any of their physical features - thank god for that - nor does she resort to torture in order to get her way. Well, not torture in the traditional sense. Avery is able to push my buttons with merely a look. As I peer into those wide, watery eyes, see the quivering lower lip and those way too adorable freckles, I'm left feeling like I deserve to spend the rest of my life getting stretched on the rack. Surely, for this child to feel such woe, then I must have done something unthinkable. The punishment must fit the crime. Khadafi and company failed to understand this fundamental principle and their empires crumbled because of it.
Before I banished myself to the dungeon or to remedial classes for dissident dads, then I had to find out what wrong I had perpetrated on my youngest offspring. If we do not take the time to understand the mistakes of our past, then we are bound to repeat them. There will come a time when the shoe will be on the other foot and I'll need someone to change my diaper and to comfort me at night with a story. I have but two children, so better not to alienate one of them so early in life, thereby greatly reducing my options for ageing gracefully and avoiding the old age home until I'm ready to go there. I doubt that Khadafi had such foresight or perhaps with tyranny comes the illusion of divinity. I am neither a tyrant nor divine, so keeping in the good books of my kids is my plan for ensuring bliss in my later years.
Avery told me that her angst was due to the fact that she does not like family meetings. OMG, she really does have a predisposition towards tyranny! A few months ago, I began to hold family meetings as I believed they were a great way for the kids to be included in the decision making process, for them to learn that their opinions matters and that it is important for them to speak their minds. Was Avery against the idea of having a say in her future? I was perplexed. It turns out I didn't have to wait long to find out. Yesterday, while Avery and I were struggling through grade 4 math homework (ok, I was the only one struggling), she blurted out that she no longer wanted to be involved in swim club and that she wanted to return to dance lessons. This was all a surprise to me. In fact, during one of our recent family meetings, the fall activity schedule was discussed at length with the kids and the decision was made to take a break from dance this year after seven years of ballet, tap and jazz. I suggested to Avery that we wait for mom to get home and we could then have a family meeting to discuss this. Immediately, the eyes watered, the lip quivered and the freckles freckled. A soft, broken, little girl voice declared "I don't like family meetings, they make me upset." I was back on the proverbial rack. What have I done to my sweet child to make something that was meant to be so good, come across as so bad? Time to re-evaluate.
I think I know what happened. Sure, the intent of our family meetings is to let the kids have a say, but in reality, Lynda and I had already decided what activities the kids would be joining this fall. As an example, we didn't want the kids to partake in dance any longer, so we weren't truly committed to listening to their suggestions. We took them down a road that they didn't want to travel. We muffled dissenting opinions. We ended our family meeting thinking that we had a consensus, but in reality, it was a consensus obtained fraudulently. We didn't mean for it to be that way and it is only as I write this that I see and understand what may have happened. It took a little while, but Avery figured it out. She figured it out before I did and opened my eyes. Even a nine year old knows when her freedom of expression has been suppressed. I'm proud of her for standing up for herself and articulating what she wants for her life. I said earlier that she may have some of the traits of a Middle Eastern dictator. If she has any, then I know where she gets them. Sometimes, her mother can be a real tyrant. Just kidding Honey.... really.... Ok, I know the routine...I'll strap myself myself to the rack when I get home.
