I recently started hanging out with toddlers (and their parents) again after a ten year absence. And things haven’t changed. There are only a few kinds of parents and nothing like a group gathering to get folks to revert to type. You know what I mean. There’s the perfect hair moms who show up at morning storytime looking like they’ve just come from the salon after picking junior up at the Baby Phat fashion show, who insist on taking the craft out of their kid’s hands to make sure it looks right. There’s the drill sergeant, camo-and-baseball-hat crowd whose kids are threatened with bodily harm for every offense. There’s the Birkenstocks devotees whose wee ones wear layers of fair trade clothes and smell like cruelty-free baby shampoo. There are the sight-impaired parents who can’t seem to see their kid tearing through the place like a hurricane, when even a legitimately blind person couldn’t miss it. There are the competers who need to one-up, the grabbers who snatch the best craft supplies for their darling, and the hoverers who should just put their kid in bubble wrap and be 
done with it. There are also some normal people who have normal kids with (mostly) normal behavior. They are rare. The bug world has their uptight population, too. In Sue Malyan’s Bugs, there’s a breed of the creepy crawlies called “parent bugs” who caretake their young long after every other big bug has ditched the little ones. Can bugs be helicopter parents?https://www.libcat.oxfordshire.gov.uk/02_Catalogue/02_005_TitleInformation.aspx?rcn=1405311665&
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