Parenting is basically a masterclass in contradiction. In the name of safety, nostalgia, and “well, this is just how it’s always been done,” we spend years telling our kids things that directly conflict with… other things we tell our kids.
Case in point: teeth.
The moment your baby cuts their first tooth, you’d think they just won an Olympic medal. We tell everyone. The cashier at the grocery store. The librarian. A stranger standing too close in the Target checkout line.
“They just cut their first tooth!”
What makes this announcement so special is that it instantly bonds parents. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never met this other mom in your life—she will immediately reflect back on her own child’s first tooth. She’ll empathize with the sleepless nights, the crankiness, the drool. She’ll probably offer a well-meaning tip that may or may not involve frozen washcloths or questionable home remedies.
Fast forward a bit to the toddler and preschool years, and suddenly we are relentless about oral health.
Brush your teeth.
Brush them again.
Don’t rush.
Did you get the back ones?
Your breath smells, go do it again.
We break out timers. Special toothbrushes. Songs. Books about teeth. Stories where characters lose all their teeth because they didn’t brush (subtle). We hammer it home: If you don’t take care of your teeth, they will rot and fall out.
Then one magical day… a tooth falls out.
And we lose our minds.
“HELL YEAH! YOUR TOOTH CAME OUT!”
“It’s a milestone!”
“A rite of passage!”
“Put it under your pillow, some fairy is coming to give you money!”
So let’s recap what our children have learned:
- Brush your teeth so they don’t fall out.
- Teeth falling out is BAD.
- Wait, teeth falling out is AMAZING.
- Also, if your tooth falls out, you get cash.
Mom and Dad are fucking confusing.
But wait, it gets better, because now we introduce the Tooth Fairy, a character who sneaks into your child’s bedroom at night, uninvited, while they’re asleep, to steal a body part and leave money.
A stranger.
In their room.
At night.
Pretty sure I’ve heard warnings about this exact scenario.
Which brings us seamlessly to the next nostalgic contradiction: Santa Claus.
From the moment our kids can walk, we are loud and clear:
Don’t talk to strangers.
Don’t go with strangers.
Stranger danger!
Then December hits and we’re like:
“Go sit on that stranger’s lap.”
“Tell him what you want.”
“Write him a letter.”
“Oh, and later he’s going to come into our house while you’re sleeping.”
Cool cool cool.
And let’s not forget the socks full of gifts and treats he leaves behind, because nothing says “healthy boundaries” like a mysterious man entering your home through the chimney.
This leads perfectly into another thing we obsessively warn our kids about: strangers and candy.
We paint a terrifying picture of how children get abducted:
A stranger.
A car.
A creative lure.
Candy.
Never take candy from strangers.
Never go near a stranger’s car.
Never, ever fall for it.
Three words.
Trunk. Or. Treat.
I simply cannot.
We literally encourage our kids to walk up to strangers, at night, and accept candy from the trunks of their vehicles. In parking lots. While dressed as tiny vampires.
And we call it community.
All of this leaves me wondering, what other wildly contradictory advice are we giving our kids in the name of tradition, safety, and nostalgia?
Because if nothing else, parenting is proof that consistency is overrated… and somehow, our kids survive us anyway.
Mom on the go in Holy Toledo 