Sign of the times: Tapping into the self-absorbed, not-ready-for-adulthood parenting market with a malevolent little volume of "bedtime stories." Brent Bozell isn't a fan:
An ungenerous person would point out that some of these hostile bouquets of “radical honesty” sound like verbal abuse. Most parents have these selfish feelings inside their own heads. But if you heard a parent say to a small child “F---- your small bear, I’m not getting you s—,” you’d probably think they could use a parenting class or two.I've had seven wakeful babies, so I get the whole sleep-deprived parent thing. But there's something wrong with this. Maybe it's the us-against-them vibe, or the twisted sense of entitlement on the parent's part, humorously portrayed, you may argue, but all about the parent's "needs" and dismissive, even contemptuous, of the child's. Who's the grown-up here? Maybe it would strike me as funny in a shocking sort of way if it were impossible to imagine a parent taking this attitude with a child in the middle of the night (it isn't), or if it didn't emerge from a culture that devalues and disposes of the inconvenient, as in babies and old people.
The same goes for “Hell no, you can’t go to the bathroom. You know where you can go? The f— to sleep.” And: “For real, shut the f— up and sleep.” And: “I know you’re not thirsty. That’s bulls—. Stop lying. Lie the f— down, my darling, and sleep.”
Bozell questions whether he's taking the book too seriously, and maybe I am, too. But there are books out there that can inspire a parent to rise to the difficult task of giving unselfishly to his child, and this isn't one of them.
Linked at Creative Minority Report -- thank you.
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