I am not the fun parent, although I really am funny and fun ( can you put those two words together?) Â .
No my husband gets to be the fun parent. He is carefree and childlike himself in a way, so he can truly enjoy and delight in all those infantile wondrous things that I seem to have lost somehow along the way.
I am the strict parent, the parent who runs on a schedule, calls bed time, toothbrushing and is orderly and expects chores and help around the house.
I am not the fun parent, I don’t play the video games, watch the cartoons, or play animal crossing on the DS, I write serious plays (some are funny) a blog, do voice overs when employed and make sure that I am occupied, as well as responsibly raising my child and stepchildren.
My son comes to me for comfort but goes to my husband for the fun stuff. Â We do laugh by the way, we do have our little jokes and our moments of fun, but I am always inquiring as to what he might be thinking or feeling. Â I ask the embarrassing questions such as; “Did you make a friend at camp today?” Â In that moment he turns to my husband with a twinkle in his eye and continues to relish in the fundom that his father is always there to provide.
When I ask him to make his bed and my husband is in the room, my husband Â will sneakily make it behind my back and Â whenever I catch him doing it, Â they will laugh together at the sheer frivolity of it all.
I am not the fun parent, I probably never shall be, because let’s face it somebody has to do all the dirty work.