The Republic of T.

Black. Gay. Father. Vegetarian. Buddhist. Liberal.

Mean Kids v. Nice Kids

Picking up where a previous post left off, the hubby told me about the conversation he and Parker had in the car yesterday morning, on the way to Parker’s pre-school.

I’m not sure why it is that Parker and his Papa talk politics on their drives to and from home. But Parker made a rather touching leap from the political to the personal in the course of this brief chat.

According to the hubby, it went something like this:

PARKER: Papa, did president Butch (see the previous post) get fired yet?

PAPA: No, Parker. He gets fired in January.


(Brief pause.)

PARKER: Papa, are his kids mean?

PAPA: Well, I don’t know, Parker. I don’t know his kids.

PARKER: Why are some kids mean?

PAPA: Well, there can be lots of reasons. Some kids are mean because their parents are mean to them.

PARKER: Well, I’m nice because you’re nice to me.

If I know my husband, he probably got a little teary-eyed right about then. I know I did when he replayed the conversation for me.

Kids really do say the dardnest things sometimes.


  1. Mission Accomplished. 😉

  2. I’m warning you T, I could really fall in love with you and your family.
    Take care brother, and hug your sons for me.

  3. This is particularly poignant in light of the Fritzl story. Scott’s post on it is still breaking my heart.

    Hug him tight.

  4. This is particularly poignant in light of the Fritzl story. Scott’s post on it is still breaking my heart.

    I’ve been wanting to write about that story, but every time I sit down and start reading about it, my brain just recoils.

    I can’t get my mind around it. Any story of kids being abused does that to me, I guess because I know how vulnerable my own kids are, and how much they rely on us to care for them, protect them, and of course love them.

    As for the man who did all of this. I don’t know what to do with him. Thinking about it too much brings me perilously close to abandoning most of my values.

    He should never see the light of day, or so much as see a human face, hear a human voice of feel a human touch again. It won’t begin to make right what he’s done. But that’s as far as my brain will go.