If I was a lesser man, I'd gloat.

Well, maybe I am gloating. But if I was a lesser man, I'd be doing the obnoxious "I told you so" dance whilst I gloat.

If you're unfamiliar with the "I told you so" dance, watch the Maury Show for a couple of days. The topic of most Maury Shows is "who's your daddy?" — shows where women who have a child but no clue who the father is bring a guy on national TV for a paternity test.

First, the woman comes out and tells her story, expressing in R-rated terms her disdain for the fact that the man has been such a deadbeat dad to her darling little child, though she's 350 percent sure that of all the people she was sleeping with at the time, he's the daddy. Then, the man joins her on stage, talks about how easy the woman is, and how about half the studio audience has just as good a chance of being that baby's daddy as he does. When we've had all of that we can take, Maury opens the big yellow envelope and reads the results: "When it comes to 14-month old Shayronda... Tyreshon....you are NOT the father!" Tyreshon then breaks out into dance, usually in the face of the stunned, devastated woman. He's overjoyed that he can continue to spend his money on gold jewelry and boxer shorts and all the other essentials of being a playa, instead of having to sell more heroin to school kids or mug more old ladies to buy diapers and formula. Unless Tyreshon IS the daddy, in which case momma do the dance in Tyreshon's face. It's riveting entertainment. Would be funny, except that these are real people -- real babies. But anyway....

It's time to introduce you to Alex, who was supposed to be kinda like my son. Except he isn't. But given the previous reference to the Maury Show, I wouldn't want you thinking a paternity test was necessary to figure that out.

Alex's mother and I were friends since college. When she suddenly found herself a single mom a few years back, I offered to help, giving some free babysitting and such while mom was making the adjustment from single and carefree to single and less carefree.

Then, one day I heard the lie. And I bought it. Hook, line and sinker.

The lie, guys, goes something like this: "You know, I really love you, and I wish you could/would be (child's name)'s father." When you hear it, save yourself the heartache you have no idea is coming. Run fast and far.

Translated, when she SAYS "I love you, I want you to be the father..." what she MEANS is "Hey, I'm really diggin this free babysitting so I can hang with my friends. I love the fact that you have no problem changing diapers or giving baths. It's great to be able to trust and use you until the child gets old enough where he/she is less work or until his/her real daddy starts coming around, at which time you'll be on the curb like yesterday's garbage."

So when you hear "I really love you, and I wish...." don't even let her finish. Fast and far. Trust me.

But back to Alex. When I bought the lie, I immersed myself in it. So I do love the little feller like he were my own even though I don't get to see him much anymore. I do my best not to hold my issues with his mother against him.

Alex started kindygarden this year, and apparently he's not doing well. Teacher tells mommy that Alex won't mind, acts bored, and makes animal noises at inappropriate times. All of the other children get smiley faces on their daily report cards every day. Alex hasn't gotten one yet. Instead, he gets notes to take home to mommy. Less than two weeks into his kindygarden career, mommy and teacher have already had a conference. Mommy was stunned. Devastated.

I'll spare you the dance, but not "I told you so!"

For five years, "no" in Alex's house hasn't meant "no, and if you do it anyway, you'll regret it" but "no, and please, if you'll just let mommy have her way on this one, King Alex, we'll go get an ice cream cone or maybe a doughnut." Inapproriate behavior doesn't get punished; good behavior gets rewarded. So Alex learned early he makes the rules. He can behave as he wishes until the reward for doing it the parent's way reaches a level that satisifies him. I'm no Hebrew scholar, but I'm pretty sure Proverbs 13:24 wasn't originally translated "He that spareth the pastry hateth his son." At this rate, by the time he's a teenager, he'll be insulin dependent.

Oh, that every child would obey their parents out of love and respect from the day they were born. That's the means to the end of obedience you hope they'll grow into. Meantime, if fear of punishment is the reason for obedience, that's just as effective and justified a means to the same necessary end. Worked for me.

I'm trying not to take it too seriously. Wouldn't matter if I did, since I have no input into how the child is raised anyway. When I bought the lie, I assumed I would have input. But I was set straight pretty quick, the first time I smacked his bottom in front of mommy because "no" was going in one ear and out the other.

It's just kindergarten, and it IS a big transition. I don't think animal noises today necessarily mean axe murderer tomorrow. But it's time for the parent to be the parent, and the child the child. If that doesn't happen soon, I'm sure next year at this time, some quack will think Alex has attention deficit disorder. Maybe a drug would help, they'll say. That's when I'll come unglued. The only disorder the child suffers is firm-hand-on-the-bottom deficit disorder. Being a parent fixes that. No prescription necessary.

Maybe this weekend Alex and I will have to spend some time together. Then we'll sit down and have us a man to boy chat about his behavior in school and how disappointed I am that he doesn't behave as I expect him to. It won't be the kind of chat he's used to. There will be no promise of sugar or toys if he changes his ways; only that I'll continue to be disappointed in him if he doesn't. Guilt is powerful. And appropriate. I have no problem using it.

But knowing Alex, at the end of our chat, he'll just look at me with those pouty "Uncle Dave is mad at me" lips, the big puppy-dog eyes, and say "Meeeeeoooooooow."