Cursed With Mom Guilt? Charlie Brown Might Cure What Ails You
Forget about unbalanced diets and unattended soccer games. How can I help this silent, solitary little boy? Where is the line between letting him grow up to be himself and forcing him out of his safety zone so he can participate in worldly life?
Another way I failed my children, I thought, running for the shelter of Peanuts.
I bought my kids a selection of Charles M. Schulz's comics a few years ago, and all of a sudden an army of children (and animals) joined our family life. The boys laughed and read aloud, discussing the characters between themselves. We are on our way to owning the full Complete Peanuts set, and in our household you'll often hear, "Pass 1983-1984 to me," or, "Where is 1950-1952?"
Recently I began to read Peanuts with my children. Slow to the enterprise, I laugh at things that have already made them giggle many times. And I must admit: Charlie Brown makes me feel better about myself.
It's not your normal guilty pleasure read, I know. It's my escape from guilt, into pleasure. The thousands of strips are comforting in their vastness — the most solid books on my shelf that could shield me, momentarily, from the advancing troop of guilt. Forget apples and soccer games and worrisome silence. Maybe, just maybe, I've done all right.
The other day, my younger son said, "Shermy and Violet disappeared and became background characters later."
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