The other day I read an article in the New York Times about how screaming was becoming the new spanking. At first, I was happy to find this out, because screaming has always been my first choice in discipline: it’s something you can do it without having to either put your drink down or get up from the couch. It also has the advantage of not leaving a mark—at least, not a physical one. On a psychic level, of course, I’m sure that it’s a different story, but hey: they’re going to need something to talk about in their future therapy sessions, aren’t they? So yeah, all in all I was pretty stoked when I saw the headline. And then I made the mistake of actually reading the article.
Turns out, screaming is only the new spanking in the sense that it is just as bad for your kids as spanking ever was. Which means, basically, that it’s a no-no.
Okay then: no spanking. And no screaming, either, apparently. So what does that leave? Experts would probably say “talking with them,” or “setting reasonable limits,” or even “teaching accountability.” But then again, experts don’t live in your house, do they? (They certainly don’t live in mine.) In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen an “expert” in person. (Maybe that’s because every time they venture out of their protective little bubbles there are parents waiting for them armed with tar and feathers. Now there’s a headline I’d like to read: “Experts say ‘Daycare Causes Aggression.’ Parents Begin to Warm Up Tar.”)
But to return to the original problem: if screaming and spanking are both out, and all the “experts” have been lynched, then what’s left?
I say cursing. Non-screaming cursing, of course, which is actually the scariest kind. (What’s scarier, the guy who’s shouting “I’m going to !@#$ kill you!” so loudly that the veins in his neck are popping out, or the woman who quietly whispers “I’m going to !@#$ kill you,” in your ear, and then smiles?)
Of course, there is one problem with cursing: it requires a little thought. Because unless you have some variety to your swearing, you’ll end up repeating yourself to the point where they just tune you out. At least with screaming (and spanking, for that matter), you don’t really need to have any nuances. A scream is a scream is a scream, and a spank is a . . . well, you get the idea. But with cursing you need to be able to change it up every now and then or else it will start to feel stale. On a personal level, I like to keep my cursing fresh by my daily BBC America viewing (no one can curse like the British), but somehow I doubt that telling Clyde to get his “Arse into the loo and brush his bleeding teeth,” would do the trick.
Which means I’ve had to learn new and better swear words in American.
This isn’t as easy as it might sound: for one thing, we don’t get HBO or Showtime. I suppose I could go hang out in the high school parking lot and try to pick up some tips, but there are three problems with that. One, it’s creepy. Two, high schoolers tend to concentrate all of their cursing on the same word, with an occasional “mother” thrown in for variety. And three, it’s super creepy.
Besides, if my cursing is going to have any effect at all, it needs to be something new, or at least old words put together in new combinations. Luckily, I know just the place.
Who knew that one day I’d be able to say “All I ever needed to know about disciplining children I learned at the trailer park?”