When I became a parent I found myself frequently getting drawn into vicious thought cycles of pessimism concerning my son. It would usually start with a simple observation like, “My son doesn’t like naps” or “My son’s hair is thin.” That would lead to a series of fearful and often ridiculous what ifs.
What if he never sleeps well? What if he goes bald at 15? What if he ends up chronically cranky? What if he resents me and my inferior chromosomes? What if he’s hard to love, he and I don’t get along, and he struggles to make good friends?
Quickly I’d arrive at the inevitable conclusion: Because my newborn son won’t take a good nap and he’s yet to grow hair, he’ll surely die an old, lonely jerk with severed family relationships.
There’s no shortage of fears in parenting.
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