Chapter One
The Importance
of Saying “No”
Saying “no” sounds so easy, right?
“Mom, can I have thirty-four dollars? Please?”
“No, I’m sorry, dear.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Dad, would you drive me to the store right now?”
“No, I’m sorry, son, I’m busy.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Mom, can I stay out until two-thirty in the morning on Saturday?”
“No, that’s way too late.”
“Oh, okay.”
If only it were that simple. But sadly, a parent’s first attempts at saying “no” usually go more like this:
“Dad, I need ninety-two dollars for a new pair of sneakers. The ones I’m wearing are falling apart and don’t fit right anymore.”
”No. I’m sorry, Liam, we just got you a new pair two months ago, and those look fine to me. And, besides, ninety-two dollars is a lot to spend on a pair of sneakers.”
“You don’t understand. The ones I have are totally geeky and don’t fit. How can you know whether they fit or not? You’re not the one who’s wearing them!”
“No, I’m sorry, we don’t have the money right now. I’m not going to give you ninety-two dollars for sneakers.”
“You don’t have money to buy your son a pair of shoes when his are falling apart?”
“Liam, your sneakers are not falling apart.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like to have to wear these stupid sneakers to school every day, and they are falling apart! It’s really embarrassing! The truth is that you’re too cheap, and you’re being unreasonable!”
“I’m not being unreasonable. You don’t need new sneakers.”
“You are being unreasonable. You don’t understand. I can’t wear these sneakers to school. They are too dorky. I’m embarrassed to let my friends see them.”
“Your sneakers look fine.”
“No, they don’t! You think they do because you don’t know anything. You don’t even remember what it was like when you were a kid!”
“Liam, what I remember or not has nothing to do with getting you ninety-two-dollar sneakers.”
“Yeah, it does, because you don’t know anything!”
“Liam, don’t you talk to me that way.”
“I will if you’re being a jerk, which you are!”
Why Saying “No” Is So Difficult
The difficulty with “no” is that, with today’s teenagers, the conversation never ends with an easy “okay” the way it might have years ago. Instead, your “no” unleashes a flood of words and emotions that is so unpleasant and continues over such an extended period that it completely drains your time and energy. Saying “no” is definitely the most difficult and taxing part of being the parent of a teenager. But it is one of the most important parts, despite what your kid tells you.
“Saying ‘no’ is so difficult for my parents because it means they have to be difficult with me, which they wouldn’t have to be if they were just reasonable sometimes, which they’re not. And if they didn’t treat me like a six-year-old, which they do, and which they wish I still was but—excuse me for living, I hate to disappoint them—I’m not.”
Teens Argue
Once you have said “no” to a teenager, whatever you may say subsequent to that “no” really doesn’t matter all that much. The only thing your teenager hears is whether or not the “no” still stands. As long as you continue the conversation, all of their words following your “no” are going to be about trying to change your “no” to a “yes.”
“No. I’m sorry, Liam, we just got you a new pair two months ago, and those look fine to me. And, besides, ninety-two dollars is a lot to spend on a pair of sneakers.”
Hmm, thinks Liam, Dad has given three different reasons for his “no.” Let me think: Which reason is the best one to start with? Or maybe I should use a completely different strategy of attack. Hmm. Let me think.
Of course, this all happens within a split second.
Don’t be fooled; they are not interested in weighing the pros and cons from your perspective in order to come to the most reasonable conclusion. They are not interested in understanding your reasons for the “no” other than as starting points for their arguments. Nor do they care whether a particular “no” is fair or not. To them, all “nos” are unfair. Period.
“What’s your point? If my dad was ever fair I would be the first to admit it. But since he never is fair, not once, I don’t understand what it is that you are trying to say.”
What this means is that you cannot expect to deliver a “no” and then get them to understand. You cannot say “no” and then say words that are somehow going to make your “no” palatable to them. It’s not going to happen.
As I said, you’re not likely to hear your kid reply, “I hate to admit it, Dad, but now that you’ve really explained it to me, I see where you’re coming from. I wish I could get cooler sneakers, but I know money is tight. I’m really disappointed, but I understand that I’ll have to accept it. Actually, my current sneakers are perfectly comfortable. I lied about that.”
After delivering a “no,” never expect that your words are going to convince your teen or are going to produce a reasonable, amicable resolution.
Once Liam’s dad says, “No,” Liam proceeds to do what any good future lawyer would do—he begins looking for only the points in his father’s case that he can best refute with a good counterargument.
I know what I’ll do: I think maybe my best strategy is to follow up on my first point about my sneakers not fitting. None of the reasons that Dad gave can really refute that. Yes, that’s where I’ll start.
Teens are superb litigators. Their brains are very good, very fast, often swifter than our own; what gives them an immediate advantage over us in any argument is that they are not bound whatsoever by the truth. “You don’t notice it, Dad, but the truth (which it totally is not) is that the sneaker for my right foot hurts all along the outside when I wear it. I actually limp sometimes, but I compensate so you don’t see it too much.”
A basic adolescent arguing tactic, well known to the parent of any teen, is the way that, in a remarkably short period of time following a “no,” you find yourself caught up in a quagmire of side issues, defending a full range of points that hadn’t been part of the original discussion at all. Now you’re on the defensive, confronting one new argument after another as to why your “no” is thoroughly unacceptable—and criminal as well.
“Dad, you say I can’t go to the concert. Let me ask you a serious question. Why is it that you literally seem to want to ruin my life? It’s not my fault that you were unpopular as a teenager and can’t stand it that I might actually have a nice time occasionally. You always say how you weren’t so lucky? But I think you’re jealous. That’s why you say ‘no’ so much. You don’t like that I should have a really good time. It’s not right that I should have to pay for your bad memories about your adolescence.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how I’m paying for your crappy adolescence.”
Teens Never Give Up
But it is not a teen’s skill or “sliminess” in arguing (and by sliminess I mean they don’t have to believe at all what they are saying) that presents the number one challenge with saying “no.”
Let’s say that, for all of Liam’s arguments and counterarguments, for all of his clever ploys, his father does not change his mind. He stands firm and says, “No, I am sorry, Liam. I’m not going to give you the money for the sneakers,” Liam will very likely fall back on what kids always fall back on when confronted with a “no”—the most powerful weapon in their arsenal: sheer, unrelenting, mind-numbing persistence.
“But why not? Why not? Why not? You haven’t given a reason. Why not? Why not? You’ve only given sucky reasons. You have to give a reason. Dad! Dad! Why not? Why not? Dad, you’re being a dick. Why not? Dad! Why not?”
Obviously this is an exaggeration, but it is not really that much of an exaggeration. Actually it’s not an exaggeration at all. It’s an abbreviation. Liam would go on far longer than what I described above. Suffice it to say, teens on the losing end of an argument can go on for a very long time.
As I said before, teens in an argument never quit. Let me give you a different example. This one involves Olivia and her mother.
It’s Tuesday night at around 7:22 p.m.:
“Mom, can I go over to Lydia’s for a sleepover Friday night?”
“No, I’m sorry, dear, I’m just not comfortable with you and your friends and a sleepover.”
“But why not?”
“I know you guys mean well, but sometimes when all of you get together, what happens is that the whole gets to be more than the sum of the parts.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard. The sum of the parts?”
“Don’t get fresh with me, Olivia.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do if you are being completely unreasonable and treating me like a six-year-old? You don’t trust me. You always think we’re going to end up doing something. That somehow I’m going to end up having sex with some boy, even if there aren’t going to be any boys there.”
“That’s not true, Olivia.”
“Yeah, it is true! I have a crazy person for a mother. My life is a wreck ever since you married Randall! It wasn’t my idea for you to marry him.”
“No, Olivia, you cannot go to the sleepover. That is it.”
Later that night, at 8:14 p.m.:
Olivia’s mother has just gotten off the phone with a friend. Enter Olivia.
“But, Mom, that is so unfair! Nothing bad is going to happen. It’s not my fault you have sex on the brain! Nothing is going to happen! I promise nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad will happen!”
“No, Olivia. And I mean it.”
At 9:08 p.m. that same night:
Olivia’s mother is brushing her teeth. Enter Olivia.
“Mom, I just talked to Lydia, and she said that her mother said that she was really comfortable with the sleepover. She didn’t understand what you were worried about. What are you afraid we’re going to do? Mom, it is so unfair!”
“Olivia, no! No, and I’m not going to change my mind. No, and that settles it. No. I do not want to hear any more about it. The answer is NO! Got that? NO!”
But since the sleepover is not until Friday night, Olivia continues the debate well into the next day.
Wednesday at 5:15 p.m.:
Olivia’s mother is coming home from work. As she enters the house, she is greeted by her daughter.
“But, Mom, our whole group is going. I just can’t not go, Mom!”
“Olivia, what do I have to say to make you understand?”
“You could say yes.”
My point in relaying this story, of course, is that even if your answer is a “no” whose prohibition extends into the future, and even if your initial “no” was incredibly firm and clear, you will hear more about it from your child as long as the “no” is still relevant to them.
Teens Rage
We’ve already covered the subject of most teenagers’ great debating skills and their extraordinary persistence. But there are two last major weapons—sheer passion and energy—that will be easily recognized by most parents as part of the teen armory. In fact, outrage, pulled up from the very center of their being, accessible at the drop of a hat and able to accelerate from zero to 60 mph in just under a second, is among their favorite tools.
“No, Tanya, I’m sorry.”
“But what do you mean, ‘no’? You can’t! You can’t say ‘no’! You can’t!”
“That’s what I just did, Tanya.”
“But you can’t! You don’t understand! You can’t! You are so mean! I can’t believe you’re saying this! You are such a bitch! I can’t believe you! You are such a bitch! You’re a bitch! That’s what you are! You’re a bitch! You can’t do this!”
All of which Tanya is screaming at her mother.
When not getting their way, teenagers can bring forth a vast reservoir of emotional intensity with amazing speed and force. Being on the receiving end of this deluge can be extremely overwhelming and draining, to say the least.
What can make all of the above even more maddening is that, shortly after such a huge outburst—one that leaves you shaking and exhausted for the rest of the day—many teenagers seem to be fine. They go on about their business, oblivious to what had just taken place between you and them only a disconcertingly short time later.
“What’s for supper?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’s for supper?’ ”
“Just what I said, ‘What are we having for supper?’ I really hope it has nothing to do with ground beef.”
“How can you be asking me what’s for supper?”
“Because I’m hungry. Is there a problem with that?”
They really don’t get it. Were someone to mention, “You just had a major fit at your mother. You were really mad and upset. You were screaming at her. Don’t you remember?” The reply would be, “Yeah, I remember. She was being a bitch then. I was mad at her, which I should have been because she was being a bitch. But I’m not mad now, I’m hungry. Is that a problem?”
When dealing with your teenage child, you want to be able to say “no” and have it hold up. You want to be able to say “no” without always getting into a huge battle. But to do so is not easy. Kids bring a stockpile of weapons to the discussion. Perfecting a strong “no” is essential. You need to develop one with some real force behind it. The number one mistake in parenting a teenager—a mistake that you will keep paying for—is allowing them to wear you down too often. Sometimes, despite your greatest efforts, it will happen. You’re human. It is not a big problem if it is the exception rather than the rule. But if their persistence bears fruit too regularly, if you do cave in and your “no” becomes a “yes” too frequently, it will truly become a disaster. Because under those circumstances your child will learn the following terrible lesson: If I’m fussing and I’m not getting my way, and I keep on fussing and I’m still not getting my way, what that means is that I haven’t been fussing long or hard enough—so I better redouble my efforts at fussing.
If they learn that they can wear you down, they will keep doing it. And they won’t see anything wrong with their behavior either.
“Well, duh, what am I supposed to do if my mom isn’t giving in and it’s so completely unfair and she absolutely never listens to me? You tell me I shouldn’t stand up for myself?”
If they learn that they can wear you down, you are guaranteed huge quantities of fussing from now until the end of adolescence and perhaps longer. The biggest danger in relenting is that they will be the ones running the show from now on, not you. They will control where the lines are drawn. And that simply is not acceptable.
“How can you let her . . . ?” We can hear the voices of others already. They are shocked at what is going on.
“Well, I didn’t exactly let her. You sort of have to go through it to understand.”
Fortunately, it is not a lost cause. There are rules that can significantly help with this most difficult of all teenage parenting tasks. But be forewarned, there is nothing I can advise—especially if you are possessed of a particularly willful teenager—that guarantees saying “no” will always be easy.
Although your kids may not always act maturely, you still want to deal with them in as adult a fashion as possible. This is not always easy, but remaining respectful of each other is always the goal.
To start, say “no” and state your reason. They will always want to know why, and they deserve an explanation, which should be as short and as honest as possible.
“Mom, can I get a new quilt for my bed?”
“No, I’m sorry, Molly. I think the one you have is perfectly good and quilts are not cheap. I’m sorry, no.”
Of course, do not expect that with your “no” and your reason, that will be the end of it.
“But, Mom, my old one is all ratty and falling apart. It’s the same one I’ve had since fourth grade.”
“No, I’m sorry, Molly, you’re just going to have to make do with the one you have. Besides, it’s not that bad.”
It is very important that you then listen to what they have to say. You should always give them that respect. It is their right. They experience not listening as a put-down, and that immediately places a great barrier between the two of you. Listening—at least initially—to what they have to say is important. The next step, of course, is to try to determine whether their argument is reasonable.
“But I have a really bad headache today! I can’t be expected to have to deal with this kind of disappointment on top of my really bad headache. It’s so unfair!”
However one-sided, emotional, or illogical their argument may be, you still want to give them the respect of letting them know that you did hear them. But then you want to move on.
“I’m sorry you have a headache. But, no, we’re not getting a new quilt.”
“But I have a headache. It’s really bad! You can’t say no about the quilt! I can feel my headache getting worse!”
“No, I’m sorry, Molly.”
But let’s say, in this case, Molly presents arguments that do have some merit.
“Mom, you’re wrong; the quilt is that bad. Wait a minute. Stay right where you are.”
“What? Where are you going?”
“Just stay. I’ll be back in a second.”
And Molly runs to her room, grabs her quilt off her bed, and returns to her mother.
“Look at it! Look!”
Molly points to a number of holes in the quilt where the stuffing is coming out, and indeed the whole of the quilt’s outer fabric has worn down and is now quite thin.
“Mom, Mom. Listen to me. I saw this really nice quilt at For Bed and Bath that was on sale, and was really affordable. I’m not just saying I need a new quilt because I’m a spoiled brat. I really do need a new quilt!”
And let’s say in this particular instance Molly’s mother, looking at the quilt, is no longer so certain. She thinks, Molly’s right. It does look pretty ratty. I don’t know how long it will be before it just falls apart.
“How much was the quilt at For Bed and Bath?”
“Sixty-nine dollars.”
“I guess we can afford it. We could go over there maybe this weekend.”
“Thank you, Mom. Thank you. You’re the best mom!”
Is it okay that Molly was able to argue with her mother and ultimately change her mother’s mind? Absolutely yes. It is excellent to sometimes change your mind in response to what your teenager has to say. It sends two very good messages. First, it says that not only do you listen to your kids, but that you also give genuine weight and consideration to their words. You don’t just hear what they are saying, but you think about it too. You are extending genuine respect. And that is a very big deal.
Second, you are letting your child know that you can be flexible. You are not someone who, once you get an idea in your head, will refuse to change it. You are not totally rigid. In response, Molly is likely to think, Mom is flexible. She isn’t a total jerk—only about almost everything else. But she’s not a complete jerk.
Listening, as we have just seen, is good. In fact, it’s not just good, it’s essential. Discussion—a true back-and-forth dialogue—is also good. Arguments and counterarguments, however, are only good to a point. Let me ask a question: How many parents of current teenagers have ever experienced a scene similar to the one described below?
Serena did not want to go to her grandparents’ home for the weekend while her parents were away. She wanted to be able to stay at home by herself. She argued vehemently with her father, but he was just too uncomfortable with the idea of Serena being alone at the house while they were gone.
“But nothing will happen! When have I gotten into big trouble? When have I shown really poor judgment? I can call Grandpa and Nene if there is a problem.”
Try as she might, Serena was unable to sway her father. And her father was unable to sway her.
“It’s not you I don’t trust. But other kids will know you’re home alone, and that is just too much of a temptation.”
They went back and forth for a while, Serena giving her objections, her father responding until gradually, Serena’s arguing began to take on a less strident tone. Her father’s words were starting to get through. His reasons as to why he was so uncomfortable with Serena staying home alone began to look increasingly hard to refute. From Serena’s standpoint, he was actually making a lot of sense. Until finally—a good thirty minutes after the argument had begun—Serena relented.
“I guess I see where you’re coming from. I understand. I hate to admit it, but like you say, ‘You can’t always get what you want.’ I guess I’ll just have to accept it. I don’t like it, just for the record. But thanks for at least hearing me. I’ll get over it. It’s not the end of the world.”
It’s probably safe to say that none of you have ever had such good luck. It’s just not possible. This has to be a pretend story. Nothing like this happens in the real world.
“I see where you’re coming from?” I don’t think so. The real response would be more like:
“I can’t believe this! Dad, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but your parents are the most boring people in the world. I will actually die if I have to spend three days in the house with them. I will actually die!”
“Serena, I am so fed up with your not accepting anything when it’s not the way you want it. You have no idea how lucky you are. Your mother and I—for once—just want to go away. But you have to make everything difficult. Maybe you could think of somebody besides yourself for a change. You are impossible. Impossible.”
“You’re impossible!”
As the real example above illustrates, when delivering “no” to a teenager, genuine, respectful listening is required. It is good, useful, and necessary to engage in a true discussion and weigh what a teenager says against your own reasons for saying no. But carrying the conversation past a certain amount of reasonable back-and-forth rapidly diminishes the value of that discussion. Past a certain threshold, I guarantee that meaningful discussion will just turn into unremitting case pleading.
“But, Dad, you aren’t getting it. I cannot be there for three days. That is not a viable plan. Grandpa and Nene watch Wheel of Fortune reruns. It is not an appropriate environment for a teenager.”
The rule is simple. After presenting a “no,” listen, discuss, change your mind if you feel so inclined. But if you are not going to change your mind, disengage. End of story. It is the only safe way out.
So how do you know when it is time to end? How can you recognize that point where reasonable discussion has switched over to case pleading, which will only lead to escalating anger on both sides? How can you anticipate that moment when the balance will start to tip? The answer is simple—let your blood pressure be your guide. I say this in all seriousness. As you well know if you are the parent of a teenager, pretty early on in any “no” discussion, there is a point where you clearly feel a rush of anger building—a distinct increase in stress inside your body. You may not immediately notice it because you are immersed in the interaction with your child. But if you train yourself to be on the lookout for it, it is not very hard to recognize that point at which the discussion enters a clearly combative stage. That is when to disengage—and do so as swiftly as you can.
“No. I’m sorry, Serena, you are going to have to stay at Grandpa and Nene’s.”
“But I can’t! It’s not fair! I will die! You have to trust me! You don’t listen to a word I say. . . .”
An important benefit of learning to disengage early is that you avoid the vicious cycle that ensues when you stay in an argument too long and both you and your teenager have built up a head of steam. The longer the back-and-forth goes on, the more difficult it becomes to disengage—and the more likely that what began as a discussion and progressed to an argument will become a full-scale blowup.
“Screw you! I’ll run away for the weekend. Screw you! That’s what I’ll do. Screw you!”
“You just better watch it, Serena.”
“No, you watch it! Screw you! I’m going to run away! Screw you!”
Disengaging and the Importance of the Sooner-Rather-Than-Later Rule
So how exactly do you disengage? What are the techniques to best achieve safe disentanglement? They are very simple. Just shut up. Stop talking. Do not say anything else. Once Serena’s father has decided that the discussion has entered the no-longer-useful zone, whatever Serena might then say—and Serena will say more—Serena’s father should say nothing.
“Tell me just one time when you have ever trusted me to do anything! You never trust me! Never! Just tell me one time that you did!” she’ll continue.
But no matter how hard she tries to bait him, Serena’s father must not bite. The discussion is over.
If Serena’s father wants, he may say one more time:
“I’m sorry, Serena, but you will have to go to your grandparents.”
But that is it. The one big trap to avoid at this point is telling your child the conversation is over. Serena’s father shouldn’t tell Serena not to talk anymore.
“Serena, I do not want to hear any more about it.”
The only thing that this statement is sure to accomplish is that Serena will say more—and will be a little angrier at her father for having told her to shut up. Who the hell does he think he is telling me to shut up?
“You don’t want to hear any more about it because you know that you are being unfair and unreasonable!”
Serena’s father needs to go. He needs to separate himself from his daughter.
“What are you doing? Where are you going? You still haven’t given me a good reason! You can’t make me stay at Grandpa and Nene’s! Dad!”
No words exist to get Serena to be the one to back off. There are no words to make her stop pleading. Trust me when I tell you there are no words to make her disengage.
“That’s it, Serena. I have had it. You just better watch it, young lady. You are starting to go too far. Not one more word. Do you hear me? Not one more word!”
The above would be a big mistake. It is Serena’s father who has to be the one to stop. Once Serena’s father has truly made up his mind, he needs to separate and exit. As fast as he can.
Bear in mind that even if he does disengage, Serena may well persist. She may be one of those tough ones whose baby selves just keep going and going like the Energizer bunny.
“Dad, you don’t understand! Dad. Dad. You’re not listening. Dad!”
Teens can get desperate in their persistence. So what do you do then? What if Serena keeps it up for half an hour? An hour? Many kids truly can go on for that long. Some parents have left the house just to get away from their unrelenting child. Threats of punishment—even when the threats are followed through—are surprisingly useless. As many parents discover, once teenagers get riled up and are deep into their baby selves, they could care less about consequences. The threats, if anything, only increase their raging.
The best advice I can offer for situations that seem unstoppable is: don’t get back into the fray. Ride it out, as difficult as that may be. Ultimately your child will power down. But it can be a long and unpleasant experience. The reason that this is the best advice I can offer is simple: all other alternatives involve reengaging in some manner, which will only make matters worse. When teens are going at you, and at you, and at you like that, anything you do that might involve reengaging with them will only feed the flames. Also, standing firm instead of engaging—even under such relentless attack—sends the best message of all: no matter how much fussing you do, I will not change my mind. Regardless of how long you go on, you will not be able to get me to reengage. It will not happen.
Of course, the inevitable question parents have is: What if they start making sense? What if you had initially said no, but then your child’s persuasive arguments have caused you to be less certain, have caused you to question whether maybe they’re right? I assure you, this is not a problem. You always have an acceptable option.
“I will think about it.”
“You will think about it? What’s that supposed to mean? How long is that going to take? What am I supposed to do while you think about it? Am I just supposed to stand here and wait?”
“I said I would think about it.”
It is a perfectly good response. It’s the truth—you’re not sure. It gives you time to give it more thought. But, most important, it lets them know that you are now ending the discussion.
“I will think about it.”
For now, that’s it.
“I’m standing here. Have you decided yet?”
“I said I would think about it.”
As I have said before, the biggest single day-to-day challenge in parenting a teenager is dealing with their ongoing attempts to wear you down, to bully you into changing your mind, to reverse your “nos.” Sometimes they will succeed. Despite your best efforts you will occasionally cave in and allow something completely opposite to your intentions. But a single occurrence is not a disaster. It only becomes one if relenting happens too regularly. Then it is definitely a problem. A big problem. So if you are going to have a “no” that consistently works, you need to stand by your “nos.” You have to be willing to see them through to the end.
While some teenagers are easier than others, there are those out there who need to hear tons of “nos” and who still launch a major battle with each one. If yours is such a child, you will have to pick and choose your battles carefully, so that the great majority of the time you will be able to see them through. There are, of course, teens for whom constantly saying “no” and battling over everything just does not work. When dealing with those teens, there are two basic rules that will help your “nos” remain effective over the long haul.
I should mention here that I have a little bit of a different take on that most revered bastion of good child rearing: consistency. My recommendation is that if, on a given day, you are not up to standing behind a particular “no,” and you sense that in this particular instance your “no” is going to produce a protracted struggle, and if it is not about something really serious, you can choose to back off.
I’ve just had a really hard day. It doesn’t have anything to do with Cameron, but I am stretched very thin. I am feeling totally frazzled, and I think that if anything else, even the slightest problem, comes along, I am going to totally lose it. I am just not up for a fight. Not today. I am just not up for it.
“Mom, can I eat your special yogurt?” asks Cameron. “I’m really hungry.”
Of course he can’t eat my special yogurt. This is the last one. I want to take it to work tomorrow—which he knows. I can get yogurt at work, but not this kind, which I like so much. But do you know what? If I say “no,” he’s going to start his pestering. I can tell. And I’m really not in the mood for it. I’m really, really not in the mood for it.
My advice under those circumstances is to let him have the yogurt.
After years of being told the exact opposite, I can just imagine your thoughts: But doesn’t that break all the rules of good child rearing? Everybody knows that children won’t respect rules unless you’re going to be consistent about sticking to them. Isn’t Cameron’s mother undermining her own rule about her son’s not eating her special yogurt? Don’t rules have to be consistent? You can’t just back down on a rule because you don’t feel up for a fight. Doesn’t that mean that Cameron now knows that it’s open game on yogurt, that the “Do-not-eat-Mother’s-special-yogurt” rule no longer stands? My answer to all those questions is: not really.
Parents hear about the importance of consistency all the time. I understand. But I believe that consistency needs to be in the firmness of your “nos” rather than in the absoluteness of any given rule. What needs to remain consistent is not the notion that rules are unbreakable but that if you say “no”—and really mean it—“no” is consistently going to mean “no.”
“You know what, Cameron? Today, for a special treat, yes, you can have my yogurt.”
“Gosh, thanks, Mom. Are you feeling okay? This is so weird.”
If his mother is someone who, most of the time, really means it when she says “no” and stands firm on that “no,” then this one-time reversal of the rule will do absolutely no damage. Because her “no” really means “no” 99 percent of the time, the “Do-not-eat-Mother’s-special-yogurt” rule will snap back into place the next time she’s asked.
“Mom, can I eat your special yogurt?”
“No, Cameron. You know I don’t want you eating my special yogurt.”
“But you let me last time.”
“That was a one-time deal as a special treat. No, I don’t want you eating my special yogurt.”
“Please, Mom.”
“No, Cameron.”
And if his mother says “no” in a way that Cameron recognizes from past experience really means “no,” there will not be a problem.
“I still don’t see why I can’t eat the special yogurt.”
But at that point Cameron, still grumbling, will leave.
Picking Your Battles with Easy Kids
Thankfully, seeing “no” through to the end is not so difficult with some kids. Such is the case with Leanna.
“No, Leanna, eleven p.m. is your curfew; after midnight is just too late.”
“But, Mom, the movie that we’re going to really doesn’t get out until eleven-thirty. And I won’t get dropped off until after midnight because that’s how late it will be by the time Roxanne’s mother will get me home. It’s not my fault that the movie ends so late.”
“No, I’m sorry, Leanna; my answer is still ‘no.’ ”
In this case, Leanna might fuss for a while, there might be some continued back-and-forth, but Leanna’s mother remains unwavering.
“No, Leanna, midnight is just too late.”
Given her mother’s consistent and firm nos, Leanna is feeling that she will get nowhere, gives up, and goes off to her room, mumbling to herself as she exits: “Mom never lets me do anything that I want. This is so stupid. Other kids don’t have to deal with anything like this. Why did I have to get stuck with a mother like her?”
Maybe Leanna calls a friend or goes online and complains further about her miserable lot in life. Maybe she gets some sympathy too.
“I hate to say it, Leanna,” writes her friend Jeanine, “but I’m lucky to have my mom. You do have it tough. I would go crazy.”
“I do go crazy.”
But gradually Leanna becomes less upset. Gradually she resigns herself to her bad deal, gets past it, and does not bring it up again. Her mother’s “no” held up and without any protracted fussing from Leanna.
Really, from Leanna’s mother’s standpoint, her daughter was pretty easy.
It’s true. She’ll fuss some, but once I take a firm stand, Leanna usually doesn’t give me too much trouble.
Not a big problem. Most of the time, if you truly stand behind your “nos,” this is what will happen.
Picking Your Battles with Difficult Kids
But let me change the story somewhat to illustrate the actions of a different type of child. Let’s say Leanna isn’t so easy at all. Let’s say she’s just the opposite. She has a temperament that varies significantly from my first version of Leanna. She’s a real pistol. She always has lots of stuff going on. She breaks lots of rules. Or bends them when she’s not breaking them. She’s tough to deal with. She goes against whatever her mother wants, and she does not resign herself to the “nos” nearly as easily as the other version of Leanna did.
Let’s say Leanna doesn’t just want to extend her curfew so she can go out to a particular movie; let’s say she wants to change the whole deal on curfews. She wants to extend her curfew for all Friday and Saturday nights from 11 p.m. to midnight. And let’s say that at Leanna’s current age—fifteen—her mother is just not comfortable with that. Leanna’s mother absolutely does not want her daughter staying out past 11 p.m. on a regular basis. She just feels that staying out that late leaves her daughter far too vulnerable to getting into trouble.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“I want to change my weekend curfew to midnight. Eleven p.m. sucks. I totally miss out on all the fun. You have to change my curfew.”
But let’s also say that, within the same week that Leanna started her campaign to permanently change her weekend curfew, she also decided that she wanted to dye the front of her hair bright red. Her mother thought this would look ridiculous, make Leanna less attractive, and mark her as a weirdo at school—more than maybe she already is. Leanna’s mother did not want her daughter to dye the front of her hair bright red.
Therein lies the real problem: when you have a child who is not so easy, you are forced to make difficult choices almost daily. If you have a teenager who constantly pushes limits, who constantly gets into battles with you, and who constantly brings considerable energy and persistence into each battle, you cannot possibly take each battle all the way to its end. It does not work because you simply do not have the strength or the energy to see each battle to its conclusion. Too often you will get worn down and end up giving in. Too often you will blow up, which can result in some really bad scenes. But worse, the constant battles will color your relationship with your child. It will make their teenage years a constant struggle. It will lead to massive ill will between you and your child. It is not good for her. It is not good for you.
Leanna will think, I hate my mom. It would be really nice if she were just friendly to me some of the time. But all we do is fight.
Leanna’s mother will secretly confess, “I cringe when I come home and Leanna is there. What’s it going to be this time? I never enjoy being with her because there is always some point of contention. It’s always something. You cannot know how draining it is.”
Leanna’s mother has to make some choices. I would ask a parent in such a tough spot,
“How about her curfew? Would you consider letting her stay out later on weekends?”
“No, absolutely not. I don’t trust her. You don’t know how much I worry just knowing she’s out there. Even eleven p.m. is pushing it.”
“How about dyeing the front of her hair red?”
“No, she’ll look like some kind of hippie tramp.”
“Do you really feel that it’s a serious problem if she were to dye the front of her hair red?”
“Well, it’s not exactly a gigantic problem. But, no, it makes her look too freaky—which is exactly what she wants. She’ll be more isolated than she already is.”
Parents of most teens—not just the wild ones—at different times during their child’s adolescence do need to make some hard choices regarding what is important and what is really important.
A good working rule is to have two categories:
1. Those issues that I care about.
2. Those issues that I really care about.
Ask yourself: Is this “no” really so important that I am willing to put considerable amounts of unpleasant time and effort into standing behind it—given that there are many other “nos” that I am also going to have to stand behind? Is this so important that I’d categorize it as a top priority?
If the answer is yes, then you do want to see it through. If you are not so sure, then you have to think about whether it is worth the battle.
Some examples of “nos” that a parent might feel strongly about include:
“Can Dave (her boyfriend) come over after school?” (They will be alone in the house and her mother is certain they will have sex—which they will—and her mother is just not comfortable with that.)
“Can I buy that Bowie knife?” (During the previous year this boy had gotten into serious trouble bringing a small knife to school.)
“Can I go to Erin’s? I can get a ride from Elisa’s brother.” (This is the same boy who, she mentioned just last week, has a drinking problem.)
Some examples of “nos” that parents might feel somewhat less strongly about include:
“Can I dye the front of my hair red?”
“Can we rent Zombie Death Party?”
“Can I move my bedtime back half an hour on weeknights?”
Again, if your “nos” are going to stand up, you need to be willing to see them through to the end. And for the “nos” you really care about to stick, you have to be careful that you don’t have too many other “nos.”
When Defeat Is Snatched from the Jaws of Victory
Whenever you are saying “no” to your teen, it is crucial to remember that you are dealing with their baby self. And it is in the nature of baby selves—all baby selves—to hang on when not getting their way (consequences be damned). And not only do they hang on, but they also learn—by trial and error—the most effective techniques to invariably suck you back into the debate, even when you have successfully sought to disengage. In other words, they’ve discovered over time exactly how to push your buttons.
Emma and her mother were shopping at the mall. They were in JLaFlamme’s, a trendy but expensive women’s clothing store. Emma had seen a winter coat that she really liked, but it was very expensive. Too expensive. No way was her mother going to let Emma buy that coat. But Emma really liked the coat. After seeing the coat, she had fallen in love with it; her heart was set on getting it. And so she argued passionately, using every ploy, every entreaty that she could come up with. But to no avail. After she and her mother had gone on for quite a while, finally Emma’s mother said,
“No, Emma, I am sorry. I know you really like that coat, but you can’t get it. It is just too expensive.”
Emma’s mother said this in a tone that Emma well recognized. She knew from previous experience that this meant that no matter how much further Emma pushed, her mother would not relent. It was now, truly, the end of discussion. Nothing further that Emma could say was going to change that fact. And so Emma, both disheartened about not getting the coat that she deeply desired, and quite angry at her mother for refusing to allow her to get it, said in the most bitter tone she could muster,
“Forget it. Finish your shopping by yourself (her mother had one more store that she had planned to visit to look at curtain fabric). I’ll be at the coffee shop. Get me when you’re done. I never get anything I want, do I? Not once!”
Then Emma turned with the intention of walking over to the benches outside a coffee shop a little ways up the mall.
Let me say right here that, up until this point, Emma’s mother had clearly achieved a brilliant victory. Since the last thing that a baby self ever wants to do is to separate, Emma’s turning was an absolute indication that her mother had been a firm, strong parent. On the Olympic Parenting scale it was a perfect ten. A brilliant victory for Mom. But baby selves do not go down easily, as we all know by now—at least not without one last gasp. And so Emma, even as she turned to leave, in one last desperate attempt to reengage her mother, mumbled, “Bitch.”
The best rule, should your child say something that you feel really does need to be addressed, is to wait until a later, neutral time. If Emma’s mother still cares so much about what was said and still wants to deal with it, then at a later time she can say, “I heard what you said this afternoon and I do not want you to talk to me again that way, ever.”
This is far better than picking up on it at the time, because to do so would almost certainly make things worse, not better.
But let us say that, in this particular instance, Emma’s mother did not want to let it pass, did not want to wait until later, and so she said to her daughter, “What did you say?”
And—this is my whole point—Emma, even as she had turned to go, even as she was about to walk away, immediately upon hearing her mother’s words, turned back toward her mother and said, still mumbling, “I didn’t say anything.”
But the baby self inside of her chortled with joy. Yes!
Emma’s mother then said, “Do not use that kind of language with me.”
But now, her baby self reengaged, Emma responded, “I’ll use any kind of language I want. In case you hadn’t noticed, this is a free country.”
Now Emma’s mother was lost. Emma had her. But Emma’s mother plunged on. “No, as long as you live in our house, under our roof, you will act and talk as we say.”
But of course teens have an answer for everything. “Fine, I’ll call Kendra on my cell. Her mother said I could live at their house. She can come over to our house to get me by the time we get home. Oh, by the way, is it okay if I come over tomorrow to get my stuff?”
Like I said, they will have an answer for everything.
My point—and I do not back down from it—is that if your aim when you are saying “no” is to get the least possible fussing and back talk both at the time and overall, there is nothing—other than returning to the old days of fear and harsh punishment—that will come as close to being effective as what I am recommending. That is: swift disengagement.
To swiftly disengage is the parenting skill that can make the greatest single difference in dealing with a teenager.
It is a skill that must be learned, for it goes against our natural instinct not to respond to each new piece of obnoxiousness that screams to be responded to. But to do so is a mistake. These are skills that, if learned, reinforce themselves because they work. And it feels very adult. Far more so than the usual,
“Don’t you dare talk to me that way!”
“I will too!”
“Oh, no you won’t!”
“Oh, yes I will!”
“Oh, no you won’t!”
“Oh, yes I will!”
“You’re treading on dangerous territory.”
“You’re treading on dangerous territory.”
What usually follows are threats of punishment that will or won’t be followed up on. But either way, the parent comes away from the experience feeling as if they lost control, feeling badly about how they handled the situation, and feeling badly about themselves, having been through the wringer once again.
The main question I hear in response to what I am recommending—understandably—is, “If I do not immediately respond to a particular shard of teenage disrespectfulness, won’t my child feel as if they are getting away with it?”
The answer is: absolutely not. The proof? Just try my approach and see how much they hate for the power to rest in your hands.
“You’re not listening to me! You have to listen to me!”
You can actually feel their desperation. They will pursue you, trying to get you to respond.
When you don’t respond, the message they get, which is precisely the message that you want them to get, is:
“If you choose to act in an unacceptable and unpleasant manner toward me, what you will get, what you will always get, is my swift absence. I will not choose to reengage in your life until you choose to once again act in an acceptable manner.”
That is truly the message you want to send.
If we had transcripts of the hundred worst teen-parent arguments ever, I am sure we would see that all of the really bad arguments could have been avoided had the parent just disengaged earlier . . . or never reengaged. Once you have truly decided on a “no,” anything further that you say only works against you. I cannot say this often enough, as it is a very important and learnable skill. Moreover, it reinforces itself because it works.
The challenge most parents have with the advice I’ve just offered is this: independent of the subjects that parents and kids fight about, parents have a hard time with the whole concept of back talk in general. To not lecture their teen, not punish their teen, not try very hard to make their teen understand how unacceptable back talk is, frustrates them to no end. Parents are just not comfortable with the idea of saying nothing. They feel that back talk is disrespectful, and that it is not okay to allow any act of disrespect, large or small, to pass unnoticed. They feel that they are required to respond to the back talk in some manner so that their child will know that it is wrong. They simply can’t ignore the disrespect.
Marissa’s mother had a visitor.
“Who are you?”
“You can’t tell?”
“Well, yes, you look exactly like Uncle Sam. But why are you dressed up in that Uncle Sam costume?”
“I am Uncle Sam. I am the United States of America. And I am here because your daughter is acting toward you in a completely disrespectful manner.”
“Yes, I know. I’m not proud of it.”
“I am here because not only is she acting toward you in a completely disrespectful manner, but you are also letting her get away with it. And, in doing so, you are undermining the very fabric of the USA. You have an obligation to your country and to your fellow citizens to get your child back in line.”
“I know. I know.”
Then Marissa’s mother broke down into tears.
“But what can I do?”
“You have to stand up to your daughter. You cannot let her talk to you in that disrespectful manner and do nothing about it.”
And, with that, Uncle Sam vanished.
Sounds silly when you hear it like that, doesn’t it? Yes, you have an obligation to raise good citizens, but bear in mind that you are already on your way to doing so. It’s important to remember that raising fine, upright kids to adulthood is a process.
My recommendation regarding back talk is quite simple. If your aim is to get the least possible back talk from your teenage child both at the time and overall, then—other than returning to the old harsh punishment model— there is nothing that comes as close to being successful as what I recommend here. And isn’t that, after all, the aim of any plan for dealing with back talk? To get as little of it as possible?
If your child talks back, you have two options. You can either respond immediately to the back talk, or you can not. I recommend not responding.
There are two basic ways—both unsuccessful—that parents tend to respond to their children’s back talk. One is to directly address the fact that their child is talking back and to note that the talking back itself is not okay.
“Lucinda, would you please wipe off the kitchen table?”
“Excuse me, I’m not your slave. What about Andrew? Why do you always ask me and not him to do stuff in the kitchen? It’s because I’m a girl, isn’t it? It’s not fair!”
“Lucinda, do not talk to me in that manner.”
Lucinda’s mother is criticizing her for talking back. The problem is that the above will invariably cause the back talk to continue.
“What manner? It’s the way you talk to me!”
And the back-and-forth will continue as long as Lucinda’s mother continues to focus on her daughter’s back talk.
“You just better watch it, Lucinda!”
“But you talk to me that way all the time!”
“You heard me, Lucinda!”
“You should hear you!”
Etc.
The other common way that parents respond to back talk—with equal lack of success—is by addressing the content of the back talk.
“Lucinda, would you please wipe off the kitchen table?”
“Excuse me, I’m not your slave. What about Andrew? Why do you always ask me and not him to do stuff in the kitchen? It’s because I’m a girl, isn’t it? It’s not fair!”
“You know that’s not true. I ask Andrew to do plenty of stuff around the kitchen.”
“Yes, it is true! All you ever ask Andrew to do is to chop wood.”
You get the idea. This discussion will also continue ad infinitum, as long as Lucinda’s mother wants to discuss gender-role stereotyping and household chores with her daughter.
“That’s ridiculous, Lucinda. It has nothing to do with the fact that you’re a girl. You just don’t like doing household chores.”
“You are so wrong! Look at yourself. Watch what you do. You’ll see!”
And so on.
If you respond to the back talk, you’ll get more back talk. It’s that simple. What I recommend instead is handling the situation as follows:
“Lucinda, would you please wipe off the kitchen table?”
“Excuse me, I’m not your slave. What about Andrew? Why do you always ask me and not him to do stuff in the kitchen? It’s because I’m a girl isn’t it? It’s not fair!”
“Lucinda, would you please wipe off the kitchen table?”
Do not respond to the back talk at all. In the above example, Lucinda may well continue her back talk, but if her mother steers clear of it, repeats her request, and then says no more, Lucinda is left with nothing other than two choices: she can comply or not. But the back talk will die down as it has nothing to feed off. And so over time, if Lucinda’s mother regularly refrains from responding to her daughter’s back talk, Lucinda may continue to talk back, but she will do it far less, knowing that there is no point to it—because her mother never seems to respond. Lucinda may think, I hate my mother. She never listens to me when I try to tell her something. She is so unfair. And I can’t even talk to her. Just yesterday I was trying to get her to see how unreasonable she was being by not letting me stay over at Cassie’s for the weekend when her parents aren’t going to be there. It’s like talking to a wall. What’s the point?
I believe most parents think, But you can’t just ignore the disrespect that is implied in the back talk. You can’t just let it happen without some kind of response. Can you?
In answer to that I say, yes, you can.
What if a child’s back talk did not mean that they act in a similarly disrespectful manner to other adults out in the world? What if back talk to a parent did not portend future back talk once they become an adult—either to parents or to other adults? What if, without your responding every time they act disrespectfully toward you, they learn, nevertheless, that disrespectful behavior is wrong?
What if they think that back talk to you is bad, but not really bad? What if, because they are home and feel safe with you—you won’t hurt them, you won’t kick them out of the house— they don’t actually exercise a lot of the same self-control they do elsewhere? Would knowing that make back talk more tolerable?
Let’s ask the kids what they think about all this.
“Jerome, do you sometimes act disrespectfully toward your parents?”
“Yeah.”
“Is being disrespectful to your parents bad?”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, children shouldn’t disrespect their parents.”
“So why do you do it?”
“I don’t know. Because they piss me off.”
“Do you feel bad about it after you do it?”
“A little. Maybe. No, not really.”
“You don’t feel bad that you act disrespectfully toward your parents?”
“Well, they can act like real jerks sometimes.”
“Would you want to act more respectfully toward them if you could control yourself better?”
“I suppose. I don’t know. I mean I know I shouldn’t do it. But I don’t really see what’s so bad about it, particularly when they act like real jerks. Which—trust me—they do. I mean, it’s just words.”
“Do you think that, overall, they’re good parents?”
“Yeah. But, like I said, they can act like real jerks sometimes.”
“So do you think it’s really bad when you talk back to your parents?”
“No, not really. It’s just a little bad. Like I said, it’s just words.”
“Do you respect your parents?”
“Yeah. They’ve always taken care of me. I know they love me. They try their best. They’ve had to put up with a lot of shit. I know that. Yeah, I respect them.”
“So why do you talk back?”
“Because, when I do it, I’m mad, and I know that nothing really bad is going to happen to me.”
“Do you think you will talk back to your parents when you’re an adult?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that would be me as an adult disrespecting them. It’s different if you’re still a kid.”
“Why is it different?”
“Because you’re a kid.”
“If you were smacked every time that you talked back, would you talk back?”
“No, probably not. But they can’t do that, it’s child abuse.”
“Which do you think is worse: a kid talking back to his parents, or a kid getting smacked in the face by his parents?”
“The kid getting smacked. That’s way worse. Back talk is just words. Smacking a kid in the face, that’s child abuse.”
Are we raising a generation of disrespectful monsters?
No.
Do kids think that talking back is wrong?
Yes.
Do they think that talking back is very wrong?
No.
Why do they talk back?
They talk back because they do not think that it is very wrong, and because they know that nothing really bad will happen to them as a consequence.
Do we want to go back to the old harsh-punishment model of child rearing—which would eliminate back talk?
I don’t. And I suspect you don’t either.
When Double Standards Are Good
Let me discuss a way of looking at disrespectful behavior that I think is useful in parenting today’s teenagers. It has to do with a double standard. The idea is pretty simple. I think it is useful for parents to have two separate standards for what is acceptable behavior: one standard is relatively lenient, and is for when just immediate family is present and at home; the other, stricter standard is for when your teen is out in the world, and for when they are in the presence of people who are not immediate family members, regardless of where they are. In effect, you are saying that certain behaviors are less bad if they are done in relative privacy, if only immediate family is present.
Some examples of these two different categories follow.
Less bad behavior: Kelsey and her father are in the car.
“What do you think of school so far this year?” asks her dad.
“That’s a stupid question. How do you think it is? It sucks like it always does.”
More bad behavior: The family is visiting Kelsey’s great-aunt.
“Kelsey, dear, how are you liking school this year?” asks her aunt.
“How am I supposed to like it? What do you think? It’s stupid.”
Less bad behavior: Jason and his father are in the kitchen at home.
“Dad, can I have five dollars to buy a box of charity candy at school?”
“No. I’m sorry, Jason.”
“You are such a tightwad. It’s for charity.”
“No, you can use your own money if you want.”
“You’re such a jerk.”
More bad behavior: Jason and his father are in a checkout line in the supermarket.
“Dad, can I have five dollars to buy a box of charity candy at school?”
“No. I’m sorry, Jason.”
“You are such a tightwad. It’s for charity.”
“No, you can use your own money if you want.”
“You’re such a jerk.”
Everyone in the supermarket line could not help but overhear Jason’s words to his father. Jason’s father thought he could see them all rolling their eyes.
Less bad behavior:
“Melinda, would you please be a dear and go into the kitchen and get me a soda out of the fridge?”
“Why can’t you do it yourself?”
More bad behavior: The Queen of England has come over to visit and is being served tea.
“Yes, I’m particularly fond of tea.”
“Would you like some sugar?” asks Melinda’s mother.
“Yes, thank you. And I would also enjoy some cream for my tea.”
“No problem. Melinda, would you please be a dear and go into the kitchen and get one of the little pitchers and put some cream from the fridge in it so the queen can have some cream for her tea?”
“Why can’t you do it yourself?”
“Oh, what a nasty little brat,” remarks the Queen of England.
The first category is obviously bad, but since these occurrences involve just family members, they are not such terrible infractions. The second category is considerably worse, as out in the world or with nonfamily members, things shift quite a bit. The same behavior can be ranked at different levels of badness, depending on the circumstances. What may be acceptable in one instance is completely unacceptable in another. And your reaction should differ accordingly.
Again, with bratty back talk at home, or when it exists just among family members, you would do well not to pick up on it. Or, if you really want to—if their words or attitude have really gotten under your skin—you may later say:
“Kelsey, earlier today, when I asked you about school, I really did not like the way you talked to me. It is not okay for you to talk to me in that manner.”
That’s a reaction, but not a very big one.
However, for the stricter categories of behavior—the ones where you are out in public or when you have guests over—you do want to let your child know that their behavior carries a different weight or level of acceptability. Then you might want to say:
“Kelsey, that was totally inappropriate, the way you answered your great-aunt Vivian’s question today at her house. She was trying to be nice. It’s one thing to talk that way with us, but you cannot talk that way with other adults, especially someone who’s elderly, like your great-aunt. We will not tolerate it. I don’t care what your reason is, you have to do better.”
“Jason, that was very humiliating to me today in the supermarket. It’s one thing to talk to me that way when it’s just us. But you really embarrassed me in front of all those people in the supermarket. You just can’t talk to me that way out in public.”
“Melinda, don’t you ever act that way again when we have the Queen of England over for tea. It was humiliating. When we have guests over, I expect you to act politely, regardless of whether you feel like it or not.”
If you really do maintain two different levels of disapproval in your head, your child will hear the difference. And they will feel less pressure to act respectfully at home and with family than they do when they are out in the world and with nonfamily. The major advantage of this policy is that it increases the likelihood that your child will behave more respectfully in nonfamily situations. They will come to feel that bratty is worse when it extends outside the safety zone of home. They themselves will have a stricter standard. I would argue that there is nothing you can do about the lesser standard at home. It is, after all, where the baby self comes out, and you’re not going to win that battle anyway. Also, if they are being required to talk respectfully in some situations but not all, it becomes easier for them to comply and their success ratio is apt to rise, making everyone feel good about the extra effort.
Some parents will no doubt ask, “But doesn’t this give them tacit permission to act disrespectfully at home?” To some extent it does.
“Oh, so it’s okay for me to act that way when it’s just us?”
“No, it’s not okay for you to talk to me in a disrespectful manner. But, yes, there is a big difference between being at home when it’s just us and when we have guests over or out in public. Then it is really not okay. It is definitely not acceptable. I care about it a lot more.”
“So you won’t be as mad at me when I act like a brat when it is just you and me, as you would when there are other people around?”
“Yes, what you just said is correct.”
It is, like I said, a double standard. But I think it is a very useful double standard.