How I became the unfun parent

by UnfunOne on July 2, 2010

“Oh, you must be the unfun parent!”

That’s what a perfect stranger cheerfully blurted out to me about 4 years ago. I had just summarily dismissed my kids’ appeals for Another Piece of Candy Please Daddy. My children, Harrison and Morgan, took it in stride – by then, they were used my candy-scrimping, TV-blocking ways.

To this woman, though, I was some kind of oddity, because I wouldn’t let my kids have their fourth piece of chocolate that afternoon, 30 minutes before dinner.

At first, I was insulted, and nearly replied with a comment about her tween-aged kids’ shape (round) and size (no comment). But I realized: I like the title.

I am the unfun parent. I love my kids more than anything else on the planet. I will happily sacrifice my popularity to help them grow up safe and healthy. And, I figure I can always bribe my way back into their good graces with a car or something when they’re older.

So, unfun parents of the world, unite! Our children may see us as dictators, but someday they’ll thank us.

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