Recently, I took my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter to the theatre.
Before you say, “Why the punishment, Corby?”, let me tell you that it was an excellent production of Bad Jelly the Witch. Perfectly pitched for adults and kids alike, with a real understanding of things like attention spans and the inherent humour in bottoms.
It also took into account what the kids might like. It was a truly wonderful father/daughter outing and we had a great discussion about the play afterward. She told me Bad Jelly the Witch was her favourite character. Her least favourite was Bad Jelly the Witch, and she thought the underlying meaning of the play was Bad Jelly the Witch. It’s like she really only remembered one thing about the entire play.
We concurred on all points. The reason I relate this tale is to tell you about the incredible sexism I encountered during the evening. And how awesome sexism can be.
You see, as we sat in the auditorium pre-show, I committed several crimes against parenting. I had dressed her in a completely mis-matched outfit, including a hat that managed to clash even further. I let her rummage through our provisions and eat whatever took her fancy. I also spilled my ginger beer on her, let her regurgitate unwanted food items directly into my bag and cleaned her face with the sleeve of my shirt. And I allowed her to loudly order me to relinquish the armrest.
These and many more infringements should have incurred the judgemental stares of mums who know better. But they didn’t. Instead, I received that wonderful look women give to men dealing with their young child solo: A sort of enamoured and slightly patronising look of, “Isn’t he doing well?”
I don’t know of any man that resents such treatment. We should! We should stare back as if to say, “Hey! I should be judged on the same terms as a female parent.” But even the most accomplished dad will take the free pass. Sexism at its finest.
Why do women give us a break? I suspect it’s because they know through observation, and their own traumatic dating history, that men are essentially useless in any nurturing role. This, of course, is now generally accepted as scientific fact.
When they see a man looking after his child, they go “Ahhh, cute,” and “At least he’s trying”. They see him making basic parenting errors, flailing helplessly, and they simply chuckle to themselves. They’re not afraid for the wellbeing of the child. They know that, sooner or later, he or she will get the proper guidance and care needed from a proper parent. One without a winkle.
It’s similar to a dog driving a car. You wouldn’t let him be in charge if it mattered, but in small doses it’s pretty entertaining.
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