I find it odd that I almost never find this guy's column at any
website that actually attracts/lists comments with every column - and
he's written a dozen books or so and has been on plenty of news shows,
so it can't be for lack of fans.

I have to say that had I not had his philosophies well in mind when I
was babysitting for a 3-year-old for two weeks, I could easily have
been brainwashed by the "common wisdom" that says you have to ask
kids' permission before you make them do anything - and if they cry
about, say, having to walk for more than five minutes because they
hate walking and prefer to take taxis everywhere, you HAVE to at least
apologize and carry them or else you'll traumatize them for life!
Thank goodness I knew differently beforehand (the mother wasn't so
informed, really).

Lenona.


http://www.kansascity.com/2011/02/08...-children.html

I must, in the interest of full disclosure, begin this column with a
confession: I am a voyeur; more specifically, a parenting voyeur. In
the words of Chauncey Gardner, I like to watch; more specifically, I
like to watch people interact with their kids. I do my voyeur thing in
restaurants, stores, shopping centers, parking lots, and so on. I try
to do it without staring, of course. The trick is to be casual about
it, to go unnoticed.

So, I am walking up and down the aisles of my local grocery store the
other day (I also like to shop), on a mission for my wife and myself,
and I turn from one aisle into the next and begin walking up on a Mom
and Dad who are hovering over a shopping cart, talking to some third
person whom I cannot see at first. Using my amazing powers of
deductive reasoning, I correctly (it turns out) figure they are
talking to a child.

"What do you think about this, buddy? Eh? Look good? Eh?" Dad is
saying.

He's holding up a bag of what looks like frozen chunks of breaded
chicken.

After several seconds of silence, Mom chimes in with "If we buy that
for you, will you eat it?"

"Yeah, buddy," Dad says. "We won't buy it unless you promise to eat
it. How about it. Huh?"

During this exchange, as I stroll ever closer to this little family
drama,

I have been pretending to peruse the shelves for my favorite brand of
baking soda. As I pass their cart, I am able to see the child in
question. He is sitting in the basket. I suppose he refuses to sit in
the child seat. He's eating something that looks, at a glance, like
candy. He looks to be 21/2.

One parenting picture is worth a thousand words. These two people
don't have a clue, but they are digging an ever-deepening hole for
themselves. At this stage of the game, they can, with minimal effort,
climb out of it, but the longer they allow this "hey buddy" and "will
you eat this?" silliness go on, the more difficult climbing out is
going to be. This child is not yet 3, and he is ringmaster of the
family circus.

At some point, these parents are going to complain (if they have not
already) to others about how "strong-willed" he is, how he won't
accept "no" for an answer, and the like. But he is not the problem.
His behavior is nothing more than an expression of the problem. Trying
to correct him is not and will not be the answer. To correct this
problem, the horse will have to be put out in front of the cart.

The problem will not only be his ever-worsening behavior. The best
research has clearly shown that the happiest children are also the
most obedient.

So the paradox will be that although this child will be getting his
own way, he will not really be a happy camper. Eventually, he may even
be miserable.

The further problem is that this tragic-comedy is close to being the
norm in America. At dinner tables all over the country, children are
being served special meals that keep them happy today and increase
their chances of being malcontents later on.

A week after my grocery store voyeurism, I read a mother's online
story of her 3-year-old daughter who is "food phobic." The mother
spends an inordinate amount of time and energy fixing this foods that
do not kick her "phobia" into action. So now we even have the
beginnings of a new diagnosis and a new mental health industry. Maybe
even a new food industry: Every item - steak, chicken, broccoli,
mashed potatoes, you name it - is processed and packaged to look and
even taste like candy.

That's not a joke; it's a prediction. And it's not funny anyway.