To make matters worse, I hear cautions, commands, and even threats of punishment ending with the COP (Chief Operating Parent) asking, "okay?" As in, "Don't cross the street, Buddy, okay?" or "I told you to stop hitting him, Buddy, okay?" or "Okay, Buddy, you've earned a time out, okay?"
I live in a condo community populated by young families. When I first moved here twelve years ago it wasn't, but I've adjusted. In fact, I sometimes I view this Suburban Captivity as penance for certain things I wish I hadn't advocated during my Gotham-based '70s. And I like how the young moms perk up whenever I tell them how I think they're doing a great thing by staying home with their kids. They usually snap out of their exhaustion fog in that moment to say, "You do?"
Yes, I do.
But I don't think they're doing such a great thing by calling their sons "Buddy" and asking both sons and daughters for permission to assert parental authority. Imagine the voice from heaven saying, "This is my Buddy, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." Compelling? Authoritative in the best possible sense of the word? I think not.
And I'm not a fan of casting Jesus as Buddy to make him more believer- friendly. I prefer the Jesus as Lord version. Oh dear God, I seem to be turning into Mrs. McClusky from Desperate Housewives.
Image snagged from: Jesus of the Week.
