The Battle Cry of the Tigger Mom
How I Learned to Accept Parenting Imperfection
- By Samantha Dunn
The phrase tiger mother recently entered our lexicon—you know, the achievement-oriented, strict parenting method bent on producing little violin-playing Einsteins destined to assume world domination. While I'm as pro-achievement as the next upward-bound, middle-class, university-educated mom, I hereby propose a new parenting craze we should all follow: what my friend writer Erika Schickel calls the Tigger Mother.
As anyone who has ever read Winnie the Pooh knows, Tiggers are "wonderful things." Tigger is so passionate about life that he bounces. He never gets lost. (Yeah, true, he can sometimes be annoying, but at least he's unique!)
Like this bouncy, ever-cheerful character, we Tigger Mothers believe that the hard work of childhood involves stolen cookies, pretend fire engines, troll dolls, silly dances, baseball and lots of singing stupid songs. Tigger Moms aren't as interested in our kids playing Mozart as much as we are interested in our kids developing Mozart's creativity. As a result, my 2-year-old son is a prodigy in this department, if I do say so myself.










