I have friends with children who often come across overly-critical relatives/friends/random folk in shops, who believe their advice is best. I’m sure those people mean well, but many friends have felt like failures because they feel they aren’t doing the parenting thing right. Here is a poem to reflect this scenario:
No bottles love, the breast is best!
When baby sleeps, you must have rest.
He’s only small, don’t let him cry.
You must ensure that nappy’s dry.
No wipes on him, his skin in new.
You can’t do that, I thought you knew.
Not walking yet, I’d check that out.
Oh naughty boy, he must not shout!
You need to clean, house is a mess
You must calm down, he’ll sense your stress
He bit again, need that to stop.
Look there he goes, another strop!
When back to work, you must be bored?
You’ve fancy stuff you can’t afford.
Her down the road, she’s never home.
Her mother’s got those kids alone.
You’re such hard work, what’s wrong with you?
I’m not allowed to say what’s true!
Not critical, just good advice!
You’ve hurt me now, you’re never nice!