Introduction

Why Your Kids Work You

Your kids can read you like a book, and they’re master readers.

My lovely wife, Sande, our daughter Krissy, and I recently had dinner at Texas Roadhouse, a favorite steakhouse. Not too far from us was a young couple with Grandma, Grandpa, Auntie, and a cherub in one of those little wooden high chairs at the end of the table. Clearly that 13-month-old didn’t want to stay in that high chair prison.

Oh, this is gonna be good, I thought.

The 13-month-old fussed and wriggled in the chair for a few minutes until she was too loud to ignore any longer. Then Dad picked up baby, put her on his lap, and offered her a spoonful of her mac and cheese.

I could predict what was going to happen next . . . and it did.

Baby grabbed the spoon and, with a petite shove of her right fist, sent that mac and cheese flying about a foot, barely missing landing in the middle of Grandma’s filet mignon dinner plate.

Eagle-eyed Mom spotted what was going on and reached for baby. “Honey, do you want this? Or do you want that?” she asked, pointing to her own food.

I started chuckling.

Sande and Krissy simultaneously shot me “the look.” The one I know from experience means, “Leemie/Dad, don’t you even think about it.”

So, in deference to my own family members and our cooked-just-right steak, I bit my tongue. I didn’t say anything to that cute, well-meaning couple who likely thought they were doing everything right but were, in fact, doing everything wrong. They were already being controlled by a kid who was shorter than a yardstick and likely couldn’t even walk yet.

Without intervention of some kind—like carrying out the practical, smart strategies I’ll reveal in this book—that same kid will become a mouthy middle-schooler. That mouthy middle-schooler will morph into an uncontrollable teenager with princess syndrome.

Yet those parents who were smiling at their firstborn Snookums had no idea they were on the way to creating a power-driven child.

You see, if you’re a parent, you’re also the teacher of a daily workshop for your kids, no matter how young or old they are. It’s called “How to Misbehave.”

Give yourself some credit. You’re an awesome teacher. You’re adept at balancing trying to do things right in parenting and accepting all kinds of advice from Grandma, Dad, your sister, and even your brother, who isn’t a parent yet but thinks he knows best how to handle your little Snookums.

You’ve read a bunch of parenting books and mommy blogs galore. You’ve dialogued with other parents in the trenches about a score of hot subjects, such as getting your kid to try new food, how to effectively potty train, the best ways to adapt to kindergarten, how to find a good soccer league, what to take to summer camp, how to navigate a certain teacher known for being a stickler, and which AP classes your child should take or which clubs she should join to ease her way into the university of your choice.

It doesn’t matter that your kid isn’t even a toddler yet. You’re determined to know all the ropes and be a good parent to create a successful child who stands head and shoulders above the rest in every area.

So, in search of the “Parent of the Year” title, you try out all sorts of ideas on your child (aka guinea pig), especially if this is your first go-round in parenting. Some of those brainstorms work, but others don’t have a high success rate. Why is that? you wonder. They seem to work for other people you read about.

The biggest problem is that, as you find your way in the real-life maze of parenting, you’re inconsistent. You try one thing, then another. What does that inconsistency say to the child watching you?

Let’s say your child is that 13-month-old I observed at Texas Roadhouse. Take a peek at the “aha” phenomenon going on in her pint-sized brain as her parents interact with her. That smart baby has already put two and two together to come up with, well, four.

Aha 1: Oh, I get it now. I know exactly how to make those people, who look like giants to me, do what I want. I cry, and they pick me up. Simple.

Aha 2: This being a kid isn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I give my Cheerios a push off the tray here, and they come running. Look how much power I’ve got in my little finger.

Aha 3: Gosh, I thought adults would be tough. But these guys are so easy. All I have to do is pout and refuse to open my mouth when they feed me. The next bite they’ll offer me comes fully loaded with entertainment—an airplane motion and buzzing noise. I wonder what else I can do to get them to perform like well-trained seals?

Aha 4: So, what’s on the menu today? . . . Oh, yuck, it’s that squishy mac and cheese again. I hate that stuff. I know. If I launch that spoon back in Dad’s face, he’ll pass me to Mom, who’ll give in and feed me from her plate. At least her food has interesting textures, even if it doesn’t always taste good. Even better, I get to sit on her warm lap instead of this cold, hard high chair. And Grandma plays with me then too. I like the googly faces she makes. They make me laugh.

Kids do read us like a book. They’re expert readers, in fact, even by the age of 13 months.

Why do kids misbehave? What do we have to do with it? And how can we stop that behavior before it starts, or turn the train of misbehavior around when it’s already chugging down the path?

There’s something called training. It’s not only for kids. It’s for parents too. Why Your Kids Misbehave—and What to Do about It:

Simply stated, kids work you because they can. Those cute ones shorter than a Canada goose? They’re smarter than you think. And the gangly ones with big puppy feet and hands who now tower over you at age 14? They’ve got parental manipulation down pat. But they all have the same agenda—to win you over so they can have what they want, when they want it, and the way they want it. They’re programmed to do it from babyhood on, unless you, wise parent, intervene.

However, you already have the upper hand, even if you don’t know it. Those kids need you, though they may not act like it and would never admit it. After all, without you they wouldn’t even have undies, much less clean ones. Nor would they have any of those gadgets they consider necessary to life, like an iPhone, a smart TV, available transportation, or a refrigerator that’s open 24/7.

That’s a good starting point for your parental authority, wouldn’t you agree?