So why don't kids have any shame? Well, it's not precisely that they
have no shame, because they do tend to be embarrassed about things
they shouldn't be. For example, they are embarrassed when their
parent says something nice about them."My son just won MVP of his
Pee Wee league."
"Mo-om! Why do you have to tell people that?"
I think it's fair to say that most kids have a broken
mortification meter and the manual for this particular device has
gone missing.
If the meter was broken in the "On" position, where everything
was humiliating, parents could work it out with confidence-building
tapes, a few months of therapy and possibly shock treatment. If it
was broken in the "Off" position, nothing at all would faze the
child and life would be good for him. That would not keep you from
being mortified, though, when he did something for which he should
be embarrassed.
No, the child's Mortification Meter is not stuck in the "On" or
"Off" position. It was turned upside down, shaken (not stirred) like
an Etch A Sketch and dropped into a fish tank ... with water ... and
fish.
Now it's just screwed up.
Here is a scenario that is probably somewhat familiar to anyone
who has ever had children:
We went out for dinner, which, nowadays, is merely a way to
showcase our kids' eccentric behavior to the rest of the world.
My 9-year-old went to the salad bar and brought back, not a
salad, but a plate that had little piles of fixings stacked on it.
There was a pile of sunflower seeds, a pile of croutons, a pile of
raisins, a pile of cheese and a stack of saltine crackers. He hit
every food group -- I was OK with it.
He grabbed a pinch of cheese between a thumb and forefinger,
raised it above his head and dropped it into his open mouth. I was
not OK with that. I swear I did not teach him that.
I told him to use a fork. He picked up his fork and used it to
smash his crackers into his raisins. I told him, "No more
cracker-smashing." He began sucking his sunflower seeds through his
straw. I snatched the straw away from him and he looked at me as if
I had grown two heads. Just so we're clear, I did not teach him any
of that and ... I did not then, nor have I ever, had two heads.
[to top of second column] |
 Suddenly, blue lights outside the restaurant caught the boy's
attention. He pointed and yelled "Police!" in the same voice someone
would use if growing marijuana in the basement. While other patrons
stared at us, I tried to shush him by quietly telling him that the
officer was giving a man a ticket, probably for speeding.
Sometimes if you talk quietly, the child will match your voice.
Eyes wide, still staring out the window, he announced at 65
decibels, or however many decibels is really, really loud, "I gotta
pee!" and made a mad dash for the restroom. I put my sunglasses on,
hoping the staff would not recognize me the next time we dined there
-- which, I was sure, would not happen until the year
2000-and-never.
When my shameless child returned, he was rubbing his arms and
shivering as if he had just driven his huskies across the Alaskan
tundra. Perhaps there was a portal to Siberia in stall 3. I offered
him my jacket but -- and I'm not kidding, here -- he said, "I can't
wear that. It's pink. I would be so embarrassed!"
...A clear case of a broken mortification meter.
I believe this defect occurs in adults as well. When we were
finally making our getaway (it couldn't have happened soon enough),
an older lady at the table next to us pulled my husband aside to
tell him what well-behaved children we have. I tried to imagine what
on earth her kids must've been like! Then I decided that her kids
were probably no different from mine. It's simply that her
mortification meter had sustained collateral damage.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info.
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