The “Ethics” of Entitlement (Whatever It Takes)

Why TACO Trump Will Never Change, Can Never Change

Unless they’re being blown to smithereens with Israeli bombs purchased by the USA for Israeli’s godless leadership’s unrestricted use in killing or maiming-for-life Palestinian babies, infants developing along typical pathways will rather instinctively learn how to get parental attention to be fed, cleaned up, warmed up or cooled down a bit. They make sounds, sometimes very loud ones, move their arms and legs whether or not anyone is at hand to see them, and so on. Parents, even first timers, figure out usually quickly what the sounds mean before they make their way to the nursery to give the attention needed.

I assume most behavioral specialists for children would agree with me when I say quite early on many of those babies get parental attention for a reason I didn’t list above. They like being held, hearing the sounds of Mommy’s and/or Daddy’s speaking or singing voice (even if no other human beings would stay anywhere nearby should Moms or Pops break out into song).

I speak as an expert on this subject since our older son only slept all night, six times in his first two years of life. I gave some of his requested attention sometimes in year one; in year two, however, I gave all his requested attention. The reason was that on his first birthday and completely without nostalgia my now-ex-wife, his Mom, who had nursed him from birth on, elbowed (carefullly chosen verb for the sake of accuracy) me at first whimper, and said, “You’ll be getting up with him every time he needs attention from now on. My year’s up.”

There was no discussion, no careful parental weighing of pros and cons, no consideration of shared responsibility, which mattered a lot to me because I was working full-time as pastor of a small church, serving as a teaching assistant to my major professor, AND completing my own doctoral seminars in the role of student. She, on the other hand, had decided not to work outside our home for a while (twenty years or so, I think it was; but I’m not bitter!) and had her days to play with our son, nap when he napped, and so on. (NOTE TO SELF: Bring this up again at your next talk therapy session.)

Oh! Speaking of not being bitter, can we text? I must take this opportunity to share with my wonderful and wonderfully objective Substack community. (Sounds like I’m about ready to offer some posts for pay. Hahaha). If these Substack people whose materials I read ran the country and established norms for caring about people, the USA would be in fantastic shape.

Here’s the thing in any case. Can you guess what made our little one break the disruptive sleep pattern (uhm, disruptive for his father; not for him or his mother)?

Since you asked, I’ll tell you. One afternoon near his second birthday, I got home from class, and she was happy, too happy; Marable Morgan happy. I thought at first she was going to jump up and down in cellophane, which, if i recall correctly, was one of the Total Woman’s secrets for keeping spunk in your bunk. But that wasn’t what was going on.

She exclaimed, “I found the solution to the sleeping problem. I decided to play tape recordings of your sermons. Out like a light.” Keep in mind that I’m not bitter here; that’s very important.

I was working on a Ph.D. in the field of preaching. I’d been preaching since I was a young teen. I thought my accomplishments in that field of endeavor were beyond reproach. The kicker was, it did work, and as the two of them were already getting plenty of sleep I was the one who had to suffer with the realities that my capacity to sleep well after a two year hiatus was possible because of my own recorded sermons.

It all must have worked out ideally as he’s a truly amazing early 40something young man by now. What a gift. I’d lose sleep for him any time.

Now to get back to where I kinda sorta began. There are a few true hermits in the world. The Desert Mothers and Fathers come to mind. Stephen Miller’s urologist must be in that small community as well.

What happens, to pose a not so hypothetical example, if the baby grows up not getting her or his emotional needs met? Plenty of food. Clean diapers galore (which one day will become Depends). But in a very wealthy and overcommitted family, the emotional support can easily go by the wayside. (Didn’t happen that way with the quirky kids of Moira and John Rose, did it?) It happened to Taco Trump.

Recipe for emotional disaster. This is what I see.