I’ve always been gullible, even embarrassingly so, but I blame my childhood for this unfortunate trait. When I was younger, my dad promised me that he made both light and the weather, and I firmly believed him.

My father, taking great joy in playing practical jokes on even his own children, went to great lengths to instill in me such a firm faith in his powers. On days before a big snowfall, my dad would wake up earlier than usual to check the weather so that when I woke up he could tell me, “Sarah, I think I just might make some snow today.”

On Christmas, he strung lights all over the bushes in front of our house and around our doorway. Just before pressing the button to turn on the lights he told me, “Sarah, I’m going to make light for you.”

Sure enough, he clapped his hands and voila! The entire house lit up! Needless to say, after several of these displays of power, I was thoroughly convinced that my father was responsible for creating light and the weather.

My father was kind of enough to let this practical joke last all the way through kindergarten. One day, my dad was telling me and my sister how he was once again going to make some snow the following day.

My sister immediately rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Dad, you know we don’t actually think you make snow, right Sarah?”

I laughed nervously and agreed maybe a little too quickly with my sister, assuring her that I certainly wasn’t naïve enough to believe that my father really was in control of the weather.

In reality, that was the first moment I realized that my dad didn’t have the supernatural powers I put so much faith in. That was the first moment I began to grow up.

When we are young, parents appear to us as superheroes. More than loving our parents, we revere them.
When I was asked what I wanted to grow up to be, I would always respond, “I want to grow up to be just like my parents.”

To children, parents are these all-knowing beings that can do no wrong and will certainly never let anything harm them. No matter how strongly children cling to this view of their parents, they will ultimately be disillusioned; whether it’s in the form of learning your father doesn’t make weather or another way.

It seems that reality always fights harder to reach and ruin the innocence of children than a parent ever can to protect it. As we grow up, reality sets in and we realize that our parents aren’t the superheroes we thought they were.

It turns out that maybe our parents can’t protect us from every evil, and maybe they can make mistakes just like every other human being. When I first realized the picture I had of my parents was inaccurate, I was angry.

Whenever I got into fights with my parents, I was indignant that the two people I admired most not so many years ago could be so blind to my point of view. I spent most of my middle school years angry and dissatisfied that my supernatural parents turned out to be so very human.

As I have aged, however, I have come to terms with a more realistic view of my parents. Though it has been quite an internal struggle, I can finally accept that my father isn’t the creator of light and weather.

But just because my parents aren’t superheroes, doesn’t mean they aren’t still two people worthy of admiration and respect. As much as I dislike admitting it, I constantly look to my parents for approval and encouragement because they are the most reliable role models I have ever known.

My parents and I still fight, and I still am almost always right, but no matter what we fight about I know at the end of the day they are looking out for my best interests.

Maybe my dad can’t make snow, but he has always been able to make a better person out of me.