Tim Allen: Don't Stand Too Close to a Naked Man

The lunatic is still alive. Now he just has nowhere near the impact. Besides, I can't hear him as well with the kid crying.

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When you're raising kids, it's valuable to have listened to your parents when you were young. You hope they listened to their parents, too. Passing child-rearing wisdom from generation to generation becomes very important. For instance, "You can't party your ass off all your life." You can, but eventually you realize it's energy misdirected.

When my attitude was bad, as a kid, my mom used to say, "I can't wait until you have your own kid." Yeah, right.

"It'll be all different when I have my own kid," I'd say. I was an idiot. Parents wait for that day. And they love to rub it in.

Now, how many times have I said, "Who put this bike here?" when I know exactly who put the bike there.

"Who put boogers on the wall? Who's wiping the boogers all over the wall!"

During one Christmas my daughter went through this phase where she'd pick her nose and wipe it anywhere. My wife, like a real smart parent, said, "You know, you can eat those things!"

At least my wife wasn't wiping stuff on the wall.

Swearing too much around the house is also dangerous when there's a young child about. I've said stuff, then realized my daughter was listening. Even in general conversation you've got to be careful. Kids are a lot like celebrities. Even though they're in the room, people talk about them as if they aren't. You make decisions about and for the child, and you forget they can hear you. They're not stupid. And then, when you're least expecting it, they become little myna birds and repeat what you say.

Recently, my daughter and I went to the supermarket, but not the same market her mom takes her to. She goes there because there are generally fewer people there at a certain time of the day. I don't shop, but I had to get something for dinner, because I'd said I'd make dinner. On the way there, my daughter said, "This isn't where Mommy goes."

"I know, but it's where we're going."

And she said, "Ugh! It'll be a slow boat to China before you can get through that line in a hurry!"

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Life's so unfair. Carol died. That's my daughter's fish. We tried to explain death to her. She cried when she found Carol just floating there. We wouldn't have wanted her to see it, but we realized she had to start somewhere and it might as well be with the fish that my wife murdered! Hey, I'm not pointing fingers, but she did spray insecticide in the room, which got in the water, which aced the fish. We were all pretty sad, especially me. I took care of Carol. I liked that fish. This fish had even made it through the big Los Angeles earthquake. It was two hours before we noticed her on the carpet. What a trouper. I would have done anything to save that fish long after my kid got bored with it.

But the fish was dead.

We said we could bury her. I tried to explain that people don't last forever, either. My daughter seemed to understand and accept this. Then, for two weeks, all I heard was "You're going to die, but Mommy's not going to." This always made me very happy to hear.

I said, "No, we both will die."

"No! Not Mommy, but you. You can die, but Mommy's not going to die." Always ready with a quick comeback, I said, "Don't make me prove it."

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I'll admit it. When we did the first ultrasound and they said, "It's a little girl," I went, "Ohhh." I actually made that sound. Like I'd opened the wrong Christmas present. Three people in the room said, "What was that all about?" My wife said, "What's `Ohhh' for?"

"Oh-hrmph-I was clearing my throat. Oh, look! A girl! Ohhhh! Dresses and parties and a friend to you! Look at that!"

I was very disappointed. And now, of course, I feel guilty in front of God. This girl is so much pleasure to me that it's incredible. I go to other guys' houses, and their boys are little monsters. The difference is night and day.

Girls love dolls. In a boy's room, if there's a doll, it has no head. Boys love cars. My daughter has car models because I'm trying, very, very slowly, to teach her to tell a Mustang from a Ferrari. I bought her a model that cost fifty dollars! I said, "It's really cool." A few weeks later I asked her where it was. She brought it to me. All the mirrors were broken off. But she likes it. She carries it around with her in her purse. Something's very wrong when a little girl carries a model Volkswagen around in her purse. It's in there with a troll doll and some lipstick. It was supposed to be in its little case. She doesn't care about that. It's jewelry to her.

I'm not sure what this means, but I'm already worried.

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When I sit back on a warm night, caressed by a soft breeze, sipping a glass of wine, and I see my daughter playing in the yard, I stop for a moment and think, "There's a lot of pain coming."

As she grows up she's going to hurt me, without even wanting to. She already hurts me and doesn't know how much.

Love hurts.

Once again, I've learned what I've always known: Women are very important for so many different reasons. I don't have to learn this from my daughter, but I'll have to put up with it from her. And maybe I can also pass on to her some understanding of men.

Men don't come from the place of anger or superiority that women think we do. We come from a culture of our own that's based on certain rules and regulations about how men live. I don't read it as power over women, but women think that we do.

Man will always be an outsider, no matter how much he stays at home, cooks, cleans, irons, vacuums, nurtures. I've worn an apron for about six months now. It hasn't done the job. But I'm sticking with the spike heels.

What I'd like my daughter to be is everything her mother is but with some of my input. I wasn't around for my wife's upbringing. I can't change her, even though I might sometimes want to. I'm in on the bottom floor with my daughter. Of course, she's already a lot like her mother, only more hyper and emotional. And shorter. Anyway, I already know I'm not going to be able to change her either. Deep down I'm not sure I really want to.

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Having a child has really changed my relationship with my wife. We appreciate our time together more. I love her more than I ever have because she's brought this wonderful thing into my life and she's turned out to be a marvelous mother. We can't argue as much, though, because we don't want our child to hear it.

Instead, we'll clench our teeth and hiss, "Just smile, then."

We never smiled this much when we argued before.

One problem is that when we do argue, my daughter always blames me. Is that the lesson? Girls always stick together?

We're a family, which is the beautiful thing. We're different now. My daughter writes letters in school that say, "I love my mommy. I love my daddy. I love that we're a family." And I'm beginning to love it. I'm beginning to love the three of us doing things together. I love the dynamic we have. I wish I had three children already. I wish two were a lot older. Then Laura and I could give them the responsibility for raising the youngest and we could sit on the patio drinking lime rickeys at sunset.

Being a family has gotten our relationship more in tune. We're part of the family of man. My daughter is only four and a half, but already I love our conversations. I love when she asks me questions about life.

I hope my daughter stays interested in the family and doesn't get so involved in school that I never see her. (Yeah, right.) Or that she doesn't one day say, "Ugh, my parents are taking me to Italy. I wish I could stay at home and just hang out." (Good luck!) And I really hope she never tells anyone, "My father is such a pain. I wish I could figure him out."

On second thought, maybe I wouldn't mind that.