To the Editor:
Maybe if someone in AJ’s home loved him enough to blow and make funny sounds on his stomach, he would be alive today. Maybe, just maybe, if someone, anyone in Sema’j Crosby’s home cared enough to make her laugh while blowing on her stomach, Sema’j wouldn’t have been found dead under the family couch.
I’m a baby belly blower from way back. I’m now on my third generation of bellies. As soon as I see my granddaughter, she runs to me, grabs my hands and runs up my stomach until I pull her in and blow on her belly. I bonded with my daughter by blowing on her mother’s belly while she was pregnant, then my daughter’s belly after she was born. And now my daughter’s daughter, my granddaughter.
How presumptuous that you would believe you know what is better for the child than her own father. You want to have a frank conversation with a 5-year-old about how she feels about respect? You want her to relate to a teenager? That is three lifetimes away at her age.
Those kinds of things are not talked about; they are learned. If she doesn’t want her dad to blow on her belly, she would show her displeasure via anger or tears. You never saw that, yet you make judgments about her 10 years in the future and condemn her dad for “negative effects” that you don’t know if they will arise for “years to come.”
One of my daughters, a director at a national day care center, is full of stories about children misbehaving. The degreed parents blame it on something else, then try to rationalize how the child is acting, to the 5-year-old!
Never be a voice for someone else’s child. Especially not to her dad. Your letter is full of opinionated words and observations. I can visualize your nonexpressive glares as he showed his love for his daughter. I might have blown a few extra raspberries on her belly just to show you. I salute the belly-blowing dad. I encourage every parent to grab their child and blow raspberries.
Frank Tierney
Woodstock