Tis the season to procrastinate all useful endeavors to reflect on the joys of holidays past and the shimmery ghosts of holidays future. But I'm not in the mood. Instead I shall tell you this little story:
At a recent party a young father, having learned that I was in the kid-biz, explained to me that he was not a great dancer, writer, singer, poet, (memory fails) because his (evil / negligent) parents failed to encourage him as a wee lad. He however as a father himself, makes a point of telling his own kid how amazingly fabulous she is at absolutely everything all the time.
The young dad rocked back on his heels to await my praise, so I shoved another handful of chips into my face and replied, "Hmm," (because I am always polite in my stories, and do not tell people they are full of shit unless it is absolutely necessary.)