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 Parenting 101 - Mother
Excerpt from Hidden Messages – What Our Words and Actions are Really Telling Our Children By Elizabeth Pantley  Danny the Disrespectful KidDanny walks in the door after school the way he usually does: muddy footprints, abandoned backpack, half-eaten lunch, and jacket trailing him on the floor. His mother looks up at him, making that “tsk” sound that only mothers can produce quite that way, followed by a weary sigh. “Geez, Danny, why do you have to come in like a tornado?” Danny mocks her the way he always does when she makes this comment. Whirling around, he knocks several things off the counter on the way to his first destination, which is, of course, the refrigerator. As his mother picks up the first wave of his debris from the floor, Danny busily creates another as he roots through the refrigerator, knocking over yogurt containers, spilling juice out of a pitcher, bruising apples, and leaving leftovers uncovered. This messy expedition yields a muffin—and a complaint that his mother never buys anything good to eat. He devours half the muffin in one bite, scattering crumbs all over the floor with a cough. As his Mom reaches down to scoop up the crumbs, he sees she’s none too pleased, but that doesn’t bother him as he carelessly rains more crumbs down on the floor. She hates this piggish behavior, hates that he, sated by his muffin feast, will turn up his nose at a dinner she spent all day preparing. “Danny! Can’t you see that I’m making dinner?” she asks. “I wish you wouldn’t eat a bunch of snacks right now.” Through a mouth filled with muffin number two, Danny mumbles something that sounds like “Whatever.” “Honey, did you get the book you need for your book report?” Mom asks. Ignoring her question, Danny asks, “Did you get me new shin guards for soccer?” “No,” his mother responds. “I haven’t had time to get to the sports shop.” Danny looks disgusted. “Geesh, Mom, whaddya DO all day around here? Watch soaps? You better go now, ‘cus I need those shin guards.” His mother glances at the clock and shakes her head. “It’s too late now, but we can go after dinner.” He takes another bite of yet another muffin. “I asked you not to eat anything else!” she tries to grab the muffin, but Danny dances away from her, holding his muffin high. They both know that his recent growth spurt put the muffin way out of her reach. “Danny, stop it!” his mother complains. “Danny, stop it!” he mimics gleefully in a grating singsong voice. Heaving a resigned sigh, she decides it’s not worth a fight and ignores it. Instead, she picks up the so-called conversation where it had left off. “So, did you get the book?” Danny peels back the muffin paper. “I already said ‘yeah.’ Whatsa matter—hearing aid need new batteries?” His mother answers this rude remark the way she answers all of them. “Watch your mouth!” Especially disturbed by his recent desire to find humor about her hearing aid she adds, “You know I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that.” The only sound in the kitchen then comes from Danny, who is absentmindedly rumpling muffin papers. Danny looks up at his mom. “Yo! I could use some milk with this...” His mother glares at him, the unspoken words hanging in the air. “What do you say?” She can’t believe that at his age she would still have to remind him to say ‘please’. Danny’s smart enough to read her warning sign, but not wise enough to understand the social impact of his rude manners. A sarcastic and belabored “Plllleeeeeease” spills out just below his wrinkled nose. Mom brings him a glass of milk, napkin, and plate. “I only asked for milk,” Danny grumbles. He tosses little muffin paper basketballs across the room toward the trashcan, decidedly blowing the three-pointers and littering the floor. As his mother cleans up crumbs and papers, she looks over at him and suggests, “Why don’t you start reading the book until dinner’s ready?” Danny sighs and rolls his eyes. “I just got home. Gimme a break here.” His mother takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “But, honey, you’re already behind on it...” Danny gives her a look that says he thinks she’s stupid. “Would you shut up with the book already?” Shocked and finally, deeply humiliated, his mother’s eyes widen with the sting of her son’s meanness. “Don’t talk to me that way, young man. I want you to sit down and read some of that book. I don’t know why you always wait until the very last minute to get started on your projects. Then you stay up ‘til midnight trying to finish, and you end up rushing…” She glances up to see Danny’s back as he’s walking out of the room. On his way out, spoken in a very loud voice obviously for her benefit, she hears “Yadda, yadda, yadda,” followed by the din of the TV. “Danny!” Mom calls, “Don’t sit down in front of that TV yet. Come set the table!” “Why do I always have to do it?” he yells to no one in particular. And that is the end of that. From the volume he’s turned up on the TV, it’s obvious to his mother that she’ll be setting the table again tonight, and that all discussion on any subject is over. Mom roughly grabs a pile of plates off the counter and slams them on the table, complaining (to herself, I suppose), “I don’t know why you can’t be more polite and helpful...”
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