Embarrassing anyone in public is bad manners or is at least bad planning, for it will surely come back upon you some day, multiplied, when you least expect it.
At the same time, isn't it a parent's prerogative to be embarrassing to their kids in public? Because we can't really help it, can we? We can't possibly keep up with every fanciful expectation our children have for what is (and is not) acceptable behavior in their presence: what clothes we can wear, how loud we can laugh, how affectionate we can be, or, heaven forbid, how cool we can be...
We parents walk onto a potential field of inter-relational landmines every time we step outside the home with an opinionated youngster who has a precious reputation to maintain.
For example, tonight our family took a stroll downtown and stopped into a coffee shop for some treats. While enjoying my butterscotch and caramel latte, I started to dance subtly to the music, as I'm wont to do:
Sophia: Stop dancing, Daddy.
I danced a little more overtly, hoping to evoke a smile.
Sophia: No, stop dancing!
I sensed that she was about to shout me down even louder, so I stopped and explained to her that it's okay to dance to the music in a restaurant.
"No! It's not!" she said.
I had an idea and turned to the worker walking by and said, "Excuse me, ma'am? Is it okay if people dance in your coffee shop?" The waitress looked surprised by the question, but then smiled and said, "Dance? Yes, you can dance here!"
"See, Sophia, she said we can dance here!"
Triumphantly, I danced again to the music, stupidly thinking that I could convince my daughter to loosen up a little.
Oh, how terribly wrong I was.
She was utterly mortified.
Her lower lip puckered out, quivering. Her eyes, wet and wide with shock, lowered to the floor as if to pray for a sinkhole to open up and rescue both her and her Cookies & Cream gelato from this humiliating moment.
Laura tried very hard not to laugh, as did I, but I stopped dancing immediately and went into pleading mode:
"Okay, okay, honey! Daddy's done dancing. See? Don't cry. You're not supposed to cry in the coffee shop, okay? They don't want little girls crying here, okay? Hey, how's your gelato? Is it good?..."
Sheesh! I thought I had another five years before my daughter disowned me for shameless public buffoonery.
Wrong.
Sorry, honey.
