Breakfast Smoothie – Explaining to the Grandkid

(If you have never read “Breakfast Smoothies” you might want to read the short introductory page. Explanations about the most blatant lies usually follow the essay.)

(who’s in charge?)

Mushrooms“Sorry I’m late this morning. Have I missed any earth shaking pronouncements?” Don asked as he walked into the garden. He continued talking without waiting for a response.

“You won’t believe it. My daughter and family were leaving this morning. But she and her husband just spent thirty minutes talking to the three year old about why he had to get in his car seat. He was whining the entire time.”

“Your son-in-law was whining?” asked Bob.

“No, smart ass, the three year old. He didn’t want to get in the car seat. My daughter and her husband talked to him for a half hour about why it was important for him to ride in the car seat and why they had to leave to go home.”

Quite a coincidence. Alicia’s smoothie this morning is the “Who’s In Charge Blues Smoothie.” I handed Don his.

MushroomsHe took the blue smoothie and gave me a suspicious look.

“I think they spent their entire vacation listening to the kid give them a ration of shit and then explaining to the little darling why whatever they wanted him to do was important,” said Don.

“Why didn’t they just strap him in? Aren’t they bigger than he is?” asked Bob.

I decided to jump in. I was talking about that very subject with my friend, Ella.

She is the principal of a day care co-op and she said that we’ve messed up an entire generation. She sees parents all day long trying to explain things to their children and getting grief back. She said that the pre-schoolers are out of control and it’s because our kids, the ones we raised, are wasting too much time explaining things to them.

“Too much kumbaya?” asked Bob.

Something like that.

“I knew that would come back to haunt us.”

She said the parents she knows are frustrated. They say, “we’re nice to our kids. We tell them what’s going on. We explain things to them. Yet they are stubborn brats.”

She said that our children are too empathetic as parents. We’ve messed them up.

Mushrooms“We messed them up? By teaching them to be empathetic?”

“I don’t remember being that wimpy,” said Don.

Neither do I. But I did some research.

“On whether you were a wimp?” asked Don.

I called my son and asked him. He said, the way he remembers it, “One day I didn’t want to get in the car and you and Mom just drove off and left me on the sidewalk.”

“Hey, I can’t suggest that. I don’t want that kid here for another week,” protested Don.

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