What Would You Like?

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The question, "What would you like?" is only relevant when there is an option.

Think about it. If there were no choices, you would not have to ask your precious child, "Would you like strawberry shortcake or some whip cream covered brownies?"

Or, "Would you like me to take you to Mary's house to have fun with her new video game? Or would you like me to call Hanna and we'll go to the mall together?"

"Would you like?" is never asked in countries were options are not offered. If a bowl of beans is ones meal of the day, there is no choice other than to eat it or not eat it.

In all my life, my mother never asked me, "What would you like?" She simply placed a plate of food and a glass of milk in front of me. Unless I was sick, I sat until I finished what she thought I should eat.

We never had clothes to choose from either. There were Sunday clothes and during the week clothes. We only went as a family to wherever the grown-ups took us. We went to bed when Mother said so. We were told where to go, what to do, and how long to stay at it.

Even after I had married and had children, Mother would be glad to see us, but always chose what she wanted to serve us. At one point my wife Carol was introduced to oatmeal soup. I remember it as a 1944 classic. Just a hot, water-based, runny oatmeal, seasoned with soy sauce.

How can you spoil a kid when he has no options? He simply grows up being governed by the authority of his parents. No problem listening to teachers either. Respect for the Police, and future employers.

This has nothing to do with encouraging the child, as it should be. Help it to develop a talent and good character.


We recently watched a Little League game. One of the team's player went to the dugout cooler and got a bottle of drinking water. He unscrewed the cap and proceeded to pour the entire bottle through his soft cap. He gleefully watched it run through and splatter to the dugout floor. A short while later, he retrieved another bottle full and poured it over one of the baseballs washing off the dirt. After the entire bottle again splattered onto the red clay dugout floor, he promptly bounced the clean ball into the red mud. (Is your dander up yet?)

The kid then whined to his mother in the stands and she came with a large bottle of Gator-aid for the darling boy. He opened the full bottle and took one small sip. I didn't see the large bottle again. Shortly after that, he stuck his lips through the chain-link dugout fence and hollered to his mother "I want nachos! I want some nachos. Maaaaam . . . Nachos.

At that point I decided that I needed to write about this.

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