You can always tell when a professional athlete, actor, or musician has lost all sense of reality. Instead of bothering with the meager masses who refer to themselves as “I” or “me”, the true Diva quickly acquires the ability to see him/herself as others do. And no literary technique communicates this newfound self-enlightenment like the third-person reference. It’s called an illeism. And if you don’t immediately have a an athlete, rock star or politician in mind, this Mental Floss piece covers it well.

The device is helpful in distinguishing people who have made the leap. From normal to special? From common to profound? More often, from self-awareness to self-importance.

I have made the leap.

The internet makes the leap easier. How far from self-important could I have been seeing as how I own multiple domain names bearing my name? I have consistently plastered my name or initials on whatever blog I start and abandon. My latest attempt is false humility, really, simply inserting my initials into a word, trying to seem like I’m just differentiating my portion of the internet river, when I’m really co-opting a pretty giant concept (writing) for the sake of self-promotion (whriting). Then again, when we all have twitter accounts and facebook pages (pages and pages), what’s so whrong with a little self-presentation?

So we are all close to the leap when we are cultivating our online identity. My leap was completed though, when I had kids. I changed from Walt to Daddy.

And Daddy is important.

Daddy can get away with all kinds of crap. Daddy can say “Because Daddy said so.” What kind of narcissist supports an argument with the mere reminder that he made a statement? Kings, dictators, parents. That’s about it.

It’s not too hard to see why Daddy made the leap. Daddy was told early on that he was responsible for two human lives. And Daddy changed a lot of diapers. And Daddy taught them English. And Daddy tells them what not to say and when not to say it. And around 51% of the time, they do what Daddy says. That’s a majority. In this country that’s the difference between being in charge and being unemployed.

Daddy is in charge.

But Daddy gets it wrong. A lot. A few choice examples that might be overheard in this house:

Daddy is so tired, please get back in your own bed.

Daddy doesn’t have to eat vegetables.

Daddy can drink that.

Daddy can say that.

I have to wonder what message this sends. The roles we establish in family life last. In Christianity, we are constantly being reminded that an image of God as Father is not so great for someone whose Father was a terrible person. The role of Father is linked to a person and a relationship (or lack thereof), not an idealized or isolated concept. So when I say something Daddy does, I’m identifying both myself and my role in the family. Maybe it establishes identity, or maybe it ties it up. If this person/idea Daddy does certain things, that presumes that other people can not do those things. Or at least, if they do, they could be doing it incorrectly.

I think the position of “I” in parenting is so easily forgotten, because “I” is a weak, sinful, person who is often wrong. When I talk to my children personally, I run the risk of being honest. I know there is a place for Daddy, but the role of “I” in my children’s lives seems to have so much more potential. I will always be a Daddy, but the thought that I can be a friend to my daughters one day, when they need less authority and more relationship, is enough to make me truly joyful.

So at the risk of losing a little power, I will make an effort to wander back into self-awareness. Love is not a declaration of power, but a choice to give away power for the sake of relationships. That’s what I’ll teach my kids. And they’ll know it’s true, because Daddy said so.