The Saline Reporter
A Heritage Newspaper
Weekly Publication
A father's approval rating is fleeting
PUBLISHED: April 3, 2008
I was stunned recently to find myself empathizing with politicians.
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"Poor politicians," I thought. "Now I know how you feel."
That has never happened before, I assure you. I have not in the past had much sympathy for political animals.
Former governor of New York Eliott Spitzer, who resigned after he was busted as a client of a prostitution ring -- see ya, wouldn't want to be ya, was pretty much my opinion.
Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick, caught in a scandal surrounding an affair he had with his chief of staff -- ba-bye, you shouldn't lie, was where I came down on it.
Sen. Hillary Clinton having to backtrack on her account of a "dangerous" trip she made to Bosnia while on the presidential campaign trail -- so sad, too bad, I figured.
No, I have not had a deep well of empathy for politicians.
That changed a little bit last week when I experienced a dramatic drop in my approval ratings as a father.
Last Thursday evening, my 6-year-old daughter made me a card and sealed it with one of her thousands of stickers. She leaped into my lap to present it to me.
"This is lovely," I said, carefully breaking the seal and unfolding the card.
It read:
"To Dad. I love you. You are the best Dad ever. Love," and she signed her name followed by "oxoxoxoxox," seven hearts, and six smiley faces.
Clearly, my approval rating was off the charts.
Best dad ever. Ever. Not best dad today or this week or even of the year. But best dad ever. You can't top that.
And that, I've learned, is the problem. Once you hit the highest height, why, there isn't anywhere to go but down. I am not so simple as to have believed that my daughter's approval rating could remain in the stratosphere until she graduated from college. A little dip was to be expected, of course.
I was not prepared, however, for how precipitous the plummet from "best dad ever" could be.
I put the card in my shirt pocket. It was 6:58 p.m.
At 7:13 p.m., I denied my daughter's request to stay up past her bedtime. It was then pollsters would have noticed the first slip in my approval ratings. At 7:18 p.m., I accompanied my daughter upstairs to have her wash her face and brush her teeth. When she sullenly said she didn't want to, I insisted.
And my approval ratings were suddenly in free-fall.
Erupting into tears, my daughter cried, "You're the worst dad ever!"
Just like that my approval rating was in the toilet. From best ever to worst ever in the span of 24 minutes. I don't think even Spitzer, whose fall from grace was pretty expedient, experienced such a dramatic turnaround.
I was set back a bit. I almost pulled from my pocket the card on which my daughter had sung my praises.
"Look here," I could have said. "I am, in fact, the best dad ever. I have proof. In your own nearly illegible 6-year-old handwriting."
But I didn't. I stayed calm and resolute. I am not swayed by the winds and whims of popularity.
Still, I'll admit, it stung. No one wants to be the worst dad ever.
Then came the full force of my daughter's disapproval. "You don't love me," she said with toothpaste seeping from the corners of her mouth. "You never let me do anything. You never say yes. You let my brother do whatever he wants. When I do something wrong, you always discipline me but you never discipline him."
Even in the emotional heat of my approval ratings' rapid descent toward implosion, I was pleased to hear her use the word "discipline." "Good vocabulary," I thought.
I stood in the bathroom door, enduring the barrage until she broke to spit toothpaste in the sink.
"That's not true," I said.
"Yes, it is," she said.
"No, hon, it's not," I said.
"Yes, it is," she said.
Obviously, as politicians probably already know, denial gets you no where when you're fighting a negative perception.
I allowed my daughter another minute to vent, and then I closed the conversation.
"It's OK for you to be mad at me," I said, "but we're done acting this way. What book should we read?"
"I don't want to read a book," she pouted, but the anger was gone and in a few minutes all was calm again.
It was after she had fallen asleep that I felt empathy for politicians. It must be tough to always have to keep one eye on your approval rating.
Fortunately for me, while my approval rating from my children is important, I don't have to let worrying about the rise and fall of the percentages get in the way of me doing my job. After all, I wasn't elected to the post.
I was appointed for life.
Staff Writer Brian Cox can be reached at 429-7380 or bcox@heritage.com.
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