The stereotype about liberal parents is that we’re overly permissive suckers who get railroaded by our kids. “Okay, time to clean up!” we’ll say, immediately before our toddler dumps a bowl of Cincinnati-style chili onto the carpet. Our rejoinder will be weak: “Spilling the chili made Daddy sad,” we’ll say, “but in five minutes it will be time to clean up!” I won’t go through the whole back-and-forth between this hypothetical toddler and his imaginary parent (me), but it involves pleading, bribery, a promised trip to SweetFrog, a puppet show in which Ollie the Owl gets a Skittle for every Lego he puts away, and, ultimately, the dad mumbling “fuck it” and cleaning up the mess.
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