A proud man is always looking down on things and people; and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you.
—C. S. Lewis
In the midst of the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln went to visit the defenses that ringed Washington, DC. As he inspected the front lines, a Confederate sniper took a shot at him—and, thankfully, missed. A soldier nearby shouted at Lincoln, “Get down, you damn fool!”
It was a pretty remarkable moment in presidential history. As Gerald Ford observed, “Few people, with the possible exception of his wife, will ever tell the president he is a fool.” The office has the effect, he said, of increasing one’s sense of self-importance.
One of the great things about being a parent—if you do it right—is that it’s very humbling. No one knows how to cut you down to size quite like your kids. They don’t care how rich, how important, how respected you are. To them, you’re a goober. To them, you’re unfunny, old, and hopelessly uncool. You’re someone they can make fun of. In fact, you’re who they practice their sense of humor on. They’re not impressed with how much you paid for the hotel room—they want to know if there is a swimming pool. They don’t care how trendy a restaurant is—they hate that it doesn’t have chicken fingers. They don’t want you to drop them off in front of school, and they don’t think you’re clever. They suspect you don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.
“No man is a hero to his valet” goes the old expression. Plenty of parents are heroes to their kids, of course, but no one is exempt from their children’s
uncanny ability to size them up and cut them down from time to time. And that’s a good thing.