How We Treat Others

Daddy, we treat others the way we want to be treated," my 5-year-old son said after I yelled at him for not being ready for school on time.

"Was I being mean?"

"You shouted at me, Dad," he said. I bent down, looked him in the eyes and said, "Buddy, I apologize for being mean. Can you forgive me?"

There was a moment of silence and then he gave me a look that all but said, "l hope I don't live to regret this."

"I'll try not to shout again," I said.

"l will be ready to leave in a few minutes," he said while shooing me out his bedroom.

This was something I doubted very seriously, but as a dad who was attempting to treat his child the way he wanted to be treated, I left the room as instructed. On my way out of his bedroom, I glanced at my son and smiled. I hoped it came off as the kind of smile that said, "l hope I don't live to regret this."

"I'll be downstairs waiting," I said.

"Dad?"

'Yes?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't ready for school," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry about,” I said.

While this is the kind of conversation I dream about having with my children, is far from what I usually hear from any of them. So far, in fact, that I sensed something wasn't quite right about my son.

So at a moment when most dads might pat themselves, or their wives, on the back for a job well done, I became suspicious. I knew my son pointing out my bad behavior and showing grace himself could only mean one thing. This was obviously an alien disguised as my son.

Like any parent who spends most of his days modeling good behavior and urging his children to do the same, I wanted to believe that all my hard work had many paid off. But what are the odds that my 5-year-dd would learn to behave properly before my 9-year-old

I sat in the kitchen wondering what the aliens had in store for my family, if not the entire human race. When “my son'" came downstairs dressed and ready for school, I acted like I was unaware of what he really was.

“Do you need me to tie your shoelaces today? I asked.

“Dad, you know I can’t tie my shoes”

"l figured that was something you could do now.”

“Don't be silly, Dad. I'm just a little kid.”

“By the way, just because I don't like being late doesn’t give me the right to shout at you," I said.

“It's okay,” he said, patting me on the back. “We all make mistakes.”

Oh, these aliens were good. But they weren't going to fool me. Instead of hugging him and saying how proud I was, I kept my distance from this alien, quickly moving his tentacle (arm?) off my back.

Looking at my watch, I said, "If we hurry, you'll only be 5 minutes late”

Once in the van, I asked this strange creature where he learned the phrase “We treat others the way we want to be treated.”

"They teach us that at school,” he said.

I interpreted this as his way of telling me that this is where the aliens have set up their body snatching operation.

"You're learning so many great things at school," I said. But it won't be enough to fool me.

When we reached my son's classroom, the alien turned to me and said, "From now on, I'll be ready for school when I'm supposed to be. Okay?"

"And I promise not to shout at you."

He held out his arms (or tentacles, if you will) as if he wanted a hug. And figuring he wouldn't hurt me with witnesses around, I gave him a hug before sending him off to do whatever it is that aliens do during the day.

As I made my way out of the school's parking lot, I called my wife. After giving her a detailed list of all the things this stranger from another planet did that my son would never do in a million years, she said "Maybe he's just growing up."

"That's just what the aliens want us to believe," I countered. "How can he be naughty one day and wonderful the next?"

"That's just the way it happens," my wife said in a voice so calm, I was becoming suspicious of her too.

For most of you, having a child, if not a whole brood, who are well mannered is no big deal. For me, however, this sort of thing is not standard operating procedure. So no matter how many times my wife has told me the creature living with us is our son, I refuse to believe it.

I do believe, however, that the aliens will return my little rascal to me one day. Until that day arrives, I'll treat this small alien with the utmost respect. Just because he's from outer space doesn't mean I shouldn't treat him the way I want to be treated.