"Dad, I just landed a spacecraft on a comet."

Son: "Dad, I just landed a spacecraft on a comet."

Father: (pushing glasses down nose) "That's good, son."

Son: "Look at the shirt I'm going to wear at the press conference: isn't it cool?"

Father: (pushes glasses back up, resumes reading)

Son: "What? You don't like it?"

Father: (reading silently)

Son: "Well, it doesn't matter. I like it, and that's what's important."

Father: (reading silently)

Son: "I'm an adult now, I don't need your permission."

Father: (without looking up from book): "That's good, son."

Son: "This about the tattoos, isn't it? You never liked them. Mom said they make me look low class."

Father: (without looking up from book): "You can discuss that with your mother if you like. Again."

Son: "I don't NEED you to like them: they are a statement. They are a statement that I am making, and it is MY statement."

Father: (reading silently)

Son: "Whatever I do isn't good enough for you, is it dad? It's never good enough."

Father: (reading silently)

Son: "Fine. Fine. I'll go change my shirt! There -- you win! I'll be a good son and change my shirt so I don't embarrass you. That's what you want, right?"

Father: (without looking up from book): "It is your choice, son."

Son: "Dad?"

Father: (pushing glasses down nose) "Yes, son?"

Son: "What shirt should I wear?"

Father: (setting down book) "Something simple and classic, I would think. Maybe pale blue."

Son: "Okay..."

Father: (pushing glasses back up, resumes reading) "And long-sleeve, so it covers those tattoos."

I am Laslo.


http://althouse.blogspot.com/2014/11/fatherly-discipline-of-old-school.html