Ahem. It has come to our attention that a very few people (and we know who you are) have attempted to use this page as evidence that Diane and I abuse our children (or carelessly allow them to be exposed to danger).
Clearly, you do not understand that this page is humorous. Rather than try to explain that to you, we will simply pray that you do not reproduce.
Julian and I both come from families in which, if a kid was in trouble, the parents first reached for the camera, and then got the kid out of the jam s/he was in.
Only very bad parents would let things like this happen to their kids . . .
Facebook post by Cyndi on October 21st:
I locked myself out of my house & so I got to teach Noelle how to pop off a glass door. For all those who make fun of me for always carrying my camping gear in the car: a hotdog roasting skewer makes an excellent substitute for a wire hanger wo which we'd not have been able to wedge & slide it off the bottom hinges.
: ) Passing problem solving (& creating) skills to the next generation. I should have taken pictures for the bad parenting web page.
Further post from Cyndi:
This is noelles artistic representation of us breaking into our own house after I locked us out.
It's 1962, and Diane and her parents are vacationing on the Amazon. Diane wanted to sit on the bow of the boat, but her mother (always the nervous type) was terrified that Diane would fall into the river and be eaten by pirhanas. So Pop took the mooring chain, which was attached to the boat at one end, passed it around Diane's waist, and fastened it with a padlock.
It was not until they were watching slides of their vacation that it occurred to anyone that what they had done was chain the only person who could swim to the boat.
Kennon, banging on rocks with his cousin Becca in Colorado in 1997. (Note the lack of safety glasses.)
Veronica at The White Horse. Yes, that's a beer bottle. On the bright side, it's empty.
Someone alert the Human Rights Watch people!
These people are torturing a baby!
(Veronica and Nanne, August 2010)
Come quickly! Your darling daughter Cyndi is sitting behind the family car and putting scissors in her mouth! And don't forget the camera! Summer '81, more or less.
I was always telling the kids that if they wanted to talk to me, they should come and get me, and not yell at me from across the house. So, I was in the kitchen cooking dinner when I hear Jonathan yelling for me. I yelled back that he needed to come out to talk to me.
He comes out, and there is blood streaming down his face. He'd fallen against the corner of his dresser. Four stitches.
How can anyone expect a little girl to smile for her picture when the bush behind her is full of bees?! Meghan and Kennon, Easter 1995.
Upon finding their child dangerously high up in a tree, the Good Parent yells, "Quick! Call the Fire Department!" The Bad Parent yells, "Quick! Get my camera!" (Kennon 1994)
It could almost be the same kid up the same tree, but it's not. This is our grandson Evan in 2007. Bad Parenting apparently runs in families.
Hmm. I wonder if Cousin David's doctor knows he's skimboarding with that broken arm?
Photo/caption used by permission of the author from "The Lives We Led" by Martin N.
Shaw, Jr. (the top rider in the photo).
Bad parenting has a rich history. Note the two-seat ferris wheel, built by Julian's grandfather, Martin Shaw. The bottom rider got into his seat and held on to the upright. The top rider climbed the ladder to the pivot point, then scrambled up to his seat from there. As long as the two riders weighed approximately the same, the ferris wheel worked great. With only two seats, it obviously would be insane of the bottom rider suddenly to decide to get out with a rider in the top seat. That happened--twice. In both cases, the top rider (and it was the same poor schlub both times it happened) was subjected to a series of screaming barrel rolls before the wheel came to rest. Despite the obvious danger, no one was ever injured on this thing, although it gave Julian's grandmother the heebie-jeebies . . .