Top 10 Things Parents Should Let Their Children Do at Restaurants!

I am begging all parents to PLEASE let your child do the following things at restaurants:

#10) Encourage children to whirl and dance in youthful glee around the tables. Note the look of enjoyment and smiles of appreciation on all the people around you as little Tiffany twirls and spins--(she is, after all going to be a ballerina one day and you've ALWAYS encouraged her dancing). This is especially fun when the child zips amongst all the elderly folks walking with canes and waitresses carrying large platters of HOT food!! Yes, by all means dance, dance, dance little ballerina!

#9) Give car keys to the little ones to shake constantly, without stopping--ever. Keys are especially tasty in the mouth--yum, yum...and they're not as sharp as they look or as dirty as you think. Even better...make it a FUN GAME for little Billy Bobby, allowing him to throw the keys to the floor, or over to the next table--to test the reflexes of the man innocently seated there. That's the best!

#8) Give kids lots and lots of sugar packets. Open them all. What they don't eat, they can use for art projects on the table, or to blow into the face of their sibling. Join them! Oh what fun this is, drawing our names, little faces, and cartoons into the sugar! How creative! Salt works too...but don't let them eat that! And then, don't even clean up the mess...leave it for the busboy to handle--that's their job after all.

#7) Let the children scream. Your little Madison has such a blood-curdling scream, so why not just let the child exercise those vocal chords? That way when they are a singing star (surely they will be) you can always recall such moments fondly with "she's always had a great pair of lungs!" Do NOT attempt to quiet the child. Stay involved in your chit-chat. Don't check the diaper or to see if the pacifier has fallen out...no,no,no, let 'em scream! Who knows, maybe everyone around will join in eventually? (I bet they just might!)

#6) Allow your child to perfect the fine art of spitball shooting. Oh, good shot right in the middle of the forehead! Sure, an errant spitball may hit an unsuspecting diner, but c'mon...if that diner decides to be a big baby about that, it's his problem. They need to learn to share the space with little angels like ours. Shoot those spitballs, get that battle goin'!

#5) Let the child find out what can and cannot be catapulted using fork or spoon. (So he or she will develop engineering skills and be good at Geometry one day.) The jelly packet got nice distance! The catsup container...not so much. Better practice at home (oh, that's right, we don't DO that at home.)

#4) Be sure to bring that talking or musical toy as electronic baby sitter. Then you and your spouse or friend can just talk louder too. Best yet, bring only one such toy with two kids. That way, little Jack and Hanna can perfect their arguing and negotiation skills--possibly even their hitting skills as you, oblivious, enjoy your meal! Perhaps those around you will join in and sing with the toy!

#3) Don't intervene when the child puts gloppy hands onto the hair or shirt of the guy in the booth behind you. After all, little Sammy is just curious and SO friendly. If guy notices glop in hair or on shirt, just give him a smile and a "kids-will-be-kids" shrug! Make a half-hearted attempt to try and correct Sammy. But don't seriously attempt to stop his socializing by insisting he sit down and turn around in his seat to face the table. Go back to checking your Crackberry and let him do this 10-11 more times to the stranger--don't say a thing more about it. Let Sammy choose how to behave. Wheee boy!

#2) Let children serve themselves at the buffet bar...sampling at will, sticking hands directly in the food, dropping food off their plate onto the floor, coughing and sneezing on the food, wiping their nose with their hand and using it to scoop up Mac and cheese. It's a buffet...everybody gets to pick what they want and serve themselves! For a second, think of helping the child, but once the fresh yeast rolls are out--RUN for them! Leave little Hailey there for other adults to help...it's every man, woman and child for themselves--it's YEAST rolls man!

and #1) Encourage loud slurping on finished soft drinks, and loud burps. One or even a few times is NOT ENOUGH. Must keep doing constantly. Burp the alphabet. Burp a song. Join in with the child. Burp and slurp your little heart out with little Richie! Encourage him by agreeing with Shrek, "Better out than in, I always say! Ha-Ha! Hee-hee!"

After all...kids WILL be kids and adults just need to learn to deal! Right?

Yes, I am trying reverse psychology--thanks for picking up on that. Stop the madness!

Actually, all this to ask, "What are some manners you emphasize to your kids on restaurant behavior and HOW do you do teach them manners?" Please leave your comments below!

(Thanks Sally P. for brainstorming on a few of these!)

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Warning to Parents Thinking About Dressing in Cow Outfits and Chasing Children

This is a special public service message from parentconsensus:

Parents, if you planned to dress up as a cow and to scare small children, this Halloween, or even...like today, please be warned, it could get you locked in the slammer. True story. Here's the link for the details...http://www.wlwt.com/cnn-news/17589970/detail.html

Save the children...eat more chikin! (?)

Teen Plans Mother's Murder to Pay for Breast Implants? Families in the News Part 3

"FOUNTAIN, Colo. — A Colorado teenager hired men to kill his mother so he could use her money to get breast implants for his girlfriend, police said."

It is reported that this precious 18-year-old son, Nikita, planned to have mom killed, sell her car, and use money in her bank account to get his girlfriend breast implants! Mom was attacked--bludgeoned using a small baseball bat--but she survived.

Here is the link to the story: http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,429166,00.html

What do you think about this kid? Why do you think this happened? Comment below.

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The "Pre-Perfect" Parent

I am 46 and I still battling my middle school nemesis--acne. This keeps me in touch with the whole teen experience and sometimes makes me question God about the unfairness of life (Why God, WHY???). Though I love taking skinventory as much as the next TEENAGE guy...gets a little old at 46.


This added to the fact that as I get older, perhaps predictably, I am getting more tuned in with the whole disease and sickness thing. A little bit of blood on the toothbrush? (Mouth cancer?) A persistent headache? (Brain tumor?) A pain in my calf muscles? (Deep vein thrombosis?) Chest pain? (Was that a heart attack? Was that? Is that a cold sweat? Is there a sense of impending doom?-?-?) That mole is bigger...I measure it every day...it IS bigger (skin cancer?) Red patches on my legs? (Flesh-eating disease?)

That last one was what brought me to the dermatologist yesterday (well, and the acne...and that mole). I was sitting in the waiting room and looking at the guy with the big bandage on his nose (is there still a nose left under there?--note to self: 1) SUNSCREEN!! 2) No more "Fake & Bake" in tanning beds), people with severe acne who refused to make eye contact (still, even a decade or so after their teen years), and other people whose affliction I could not see, but imagined was probably something scabby and rashy. I was disrupted from my gross-out imaginations by a young girl my son's age who called for me and walked me back to the exam room.

Once there the young woman wanted me to SHOW her my "problems," which I very self-consciously and reluctantly did. (Sidebar: I have this problem. Unlike every woman, and like every man, I still like to delude myself into thinking I am attractive and I've still got game. Why? I don't know. I am happily married and love my wife.) Nevertheless, having to show this young woman my physical flaws pushed me pushed me right out of my delusion. Put me in my place basically--reality check.

The doc walks in. I make a joke, pointing to the illustrated guide to skin on the wall that names all the parts that make up this, the largest organ (average human skin weighs 6 pounds by the way), I say, "Wow, I didn't know skin was THAT complicated."

He looks and says, without missing a beat, "Wow, me either!"

I know right away, he's the doc for me. I want a guy who can crack a joke before he tells me the bad news about that mole.

The 5 minute, $50 exam is rapid-fire. The mole is okay. A new spray should work for the psoriasis. As far as the face, "well, we'll just have you use a little Elidel" (it costs $133 AFTER insurance for 6 ounces). "We'll clear up your face (my face ia always red) so we can see if any of this is "pre-cancerous, and..." he continued on, but I didn't.

"PRE-CANCEROUS??????" I KNEW IT. All this worrying, hours on the internet examing skin cancer and every other sickness, pestilence and plague had paid off.

So BEFORE I got home and Googled this all out, I played around a little bit with the whole idea of "pre-cancerous." What does it MEAN???:
"Pre-make out your will?"
"Pre-you are so gonna die?"
Or is it a more kinder, gentler, like...
"Pre-just keep rubbing a little bit of this on it?"

Because I am easily bored, even by ruminations on the fear of imminent death, I also started playing around with the word "pre" in other, more positive contexts, as in:
I am possibly a "Pre-genius" or
I could be a "Pre-President of the United States"
I am for sure "Pre-insane (as is any parent of middle-schoolers or any teen girl)."

I finally struck on, "I could be a 'Pre-Perfect' parent."
A bunch of things came flooding in. I wish I was a better dad. I wish I was smarter about it and that I had more wisdom. I wish I was more loving and more attentive. I wish I knew how to handle more situations for sure. I wish I felt more confident in my role (I feel like an impostor sometimes--will the "real dad" please take over!) I wish I didn't lose sleep when I take a tough stand with my kids and I know they "hate" me at the moment.

At the end of this negative rumination, I got back on the right track by reminding myself:
1) Parenting is a LEARNING EXPERIENCE for us, thank God not pass/ fail. It's gonna be messy sometimes. There is room for mistakes, weakness and finding our feet.
2) I am a better parent than I used to be. And far more confident. I remind myself of specifics.
3) I think about how much I love my kids. Love covers a multitude of sins.
4) Since I've begun reaching out to other parents, in real life and through my website http://www.parentconsensus.com/, I have far fewer "negative rumination" times than I used to. (One big reason I started the website was to see if I was on track and to get wisdom and help from other parents--who are better at this than me.)
5) Parenting perfection is a myth. We are just all at varying levels of doing this thing wrong--yes even you.


(By the way, according to my Googling and Ask.com-ing, "precancerous" means "showing pathological changes that may be preliminary to malignancy" BUT that early recognition of these is key to preventing skin cancer AND exercise and caffeine work together to kill off precancerous skin cells.) On that note..



...I have to leave all you "pre-perfect" parents, I am running off to Starbucks...then the gym...fighting the "pre-cancer."





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"A Dog + a Little Girl + An Automatic Car Window = Family Nightmare" Or "What You Gonna Do When Life Poops on You?"

It was an ordinary day. We had no reason to think it would spiral into a nightmare for my 8-year-old daughter, Kristin--and for our chronically shabby, ungroomed schnauzer named Frosty (Frosty's a she by the way).

The family was packed into the Blazer, making a rare trip to Frosty's groomer. Lined up on the backseat are Mike to one side, Frosty on the opposite side, and little Kristin wedged in between them (Frosty is a space hog in the car--and for a child to avoid having a doggy butt in their face...they have to give Frosty room to find her perfect "snout-out- window" position.)

Like every other dog, Frosty loves to go "bye-bye" in the car, head out the window, tongue lolling out to the side, slobbering on my windows--socializing via barks with passing furry friends and catching up on all the doggy news with every whif out the window. On this day, she was enjoying just such a joy ride.

(Kristin and Frosty sharing happier moments.)

Witness accounts vary on what happened next. All agree it happened quickly, quite without warning.

Just as we are driving into the driveway of the groomer's home, I decided to shut the window Frosty is not using...or so I THOUGHT she was not using. Turns out Frosty was in full snout out position at that window...thus getting her neck caught in the automatic window, thus trying to pull her head back, thus couldn't, thus yipped loudly, and thus..and thus...she immediately POOPED AND PEED...right on poor, innocent, and WAY unsuspecting Kristin. Her neck, hands, leg, chest...the kid was covered in dog poop and pee!!

In less than 5 seconds we had a 4-alarm family "fun" situation happening.

Kristin didn't cry...didn't freak out...didn't throw-up, though the stench was unbearable (nothing like raw, fresh dog poop in an enclosed car...nothing my friend). We think Kristin found some alternative plane of reality to inhabit, a place where bunnies and other furry friendly animals frolick in the meadow with the butterflies and the wise old owl and a friend named Pooh--her happy place if you will, a space of denial and disbelief...(the kind of place us Florida State football fans have tried to find for about 5 years now).

My wife Karen found a few napkins in the car (some already used) and made a few brave and daring motherly attempts to clean up this hazardous waste disaster, but even her maternal instinct was overwhelmed by this funk--there was no way to undo what Frosty done did. "Drive faster!" she said as she rolled down the windows.

The drive home to get cleaned up was only 5 minutes (though the longest 5 minutes in my daughter's life).

She was okay...she began talking again several weeks later. :)

Sometimes life...poops and pees on you. Whether you are good, bad, rich, poor, smart or stupid, careful or risk-taking, purposeful or pointless, lazy or hard-working--life is going to poop or pee on you. I promise you. When that happens--what you gonna do?

What this world needs...and what kids need, are parents and adults who don't fly off the handle, freak out, flake out, fall apart, or freeze in fear when life poops on them. How we handle the tough times speaks volumes about our character and does worlds in giving our kids a great example of strength they will respect and imitate. Not to mention the sense of security they get from knowing they can count on you in tough times. (Hey, we all have times when poop times get the best of us. But what is our typical, consistent response? That is what's most important.)

Now, when friends ride in the back seat of my vehicle (different car--obviously had to sell the Blazer after the "incident"), they might see dog slobber on the car window.

When they ask "What's this?"
I say, "Dog slobber, no worries!"
"Dog slobber? Gross!"
"It could be worse...much, much worse," and I smile.

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Family Time or Family Crime? What's Your Legacy?

I am a big fan of parents making sure they pass on to their children solid life skills and an honorable legacy. Good stuff.

But what about when one's life skill and legacy is...um...crime? (And one is not very good at it--cause one is caught, convicted and sentenced?) Turns out that gets passed down too.

A recent article from indystar.com, "Lawless Legacy: Eastside Family Has 50 Convictions", tells of a family from Indianapolis that has racked up 50 convictions and a total of 110 years in jail. Let's do the math: father Paul Sr., 66, has nine convictions, for which he has been sentenced to 45 years. Five of his six children -- Paul Jr., 38; John, 37; Brian, 36; Jeremy, 35; and Jenny, 34 -- have been convicted a combined 39 times and have been sentenced to a total of 65 years in prison.

Though this is an extreme case, the fact is, each of us is building a legacy that we will leave behind. Our lives "live on" beyond us, through our children.


We have to ask ourselves, "What is the legacy I will leave? What of me will live on in my child/ children when I am gone?"

And let's put a finer point on it...legacies are for the living. Which of our positive values, qualities, characteristics, strengths or traits do we see reflected in our kids--right now? (This is a tough one) Which of our shortcomings, faults, negative traits and weaknesses do we see in our kids today? Let's be honest. What of us do we want to end with us...and what do we want to see live on in our kids?

The good news is...we can still change our legacy. "You can't teach an old dog new tricks"...is just a saying, and is not the final word on any of us. Each of us can change.


Though we can't rewrite the past, the future is yet to be written. Each of us has a whole lot more love and goodness to share, so much left to give to our kids (parenting IS a lifelong privilege...though ever-changing and evolving).

"Legacy" sounds ominous. Let's break it down. Legacies are formed one step at a time, involving hundreds of individual decisions, actions, interactions and memories. They can be reformed the same way--one step at a time.


What ONE thing can you do tomorrow as a legacy builder for you and your child/ children? (Is there an act of kindness you can do together? A table talk you can have over a meal, perhaps sharing favorite family memories? Anything that allows your children to see the best in you will do. :)


There is no better legacy than the living kind--seeing the best in us lived out daily in the lives of our kids.


In the comments below...share your legacy builders!

--Jim Kochenburger



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To see the original indystar article, cick here: http://www.indystar.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080921/NEWS02/809210372

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The Family That Beats Up People Together...Stays Together?

In Baton Rouge, Lousiana an 18-year-old and his 53-year-old mother, were arrested for a recent road rage incident that ended with the severe beating of a 70-year-old man. Apparently, the young "real smart" guy knocked an elderly man's front teeth out and caused such injury to his mouth that it took 40 stitches to sew his upper lip back together. Oh, and here's the best part--it is reported the young man's mother helped with the beating. (Source, AP, 9-19-08, article "Police: Mother, Son Arrested for Severe Road-Rage Beating of 70-Year-Old")

What a beautiful story--a mother and son bonding over their shared beating of an elderly man. Well there's one for the family scrap book and to share proudly at the family barbecue...

"Yep, my son done tore that feller up!"

"Well, um...but the guy was OLD, older than Papa over there...."

"It don't matter...you do me wrong, I take care of it."

"That's right son...you make your momma proud."

Now I am sure there is more to the story. We all know how inimidating and scary elderly people can be. And this guy was probably like most elderly men, dressed in his leathers and his big old bad dude shades. He was likely driving his pimped out low rider, pumping his rap music so loud that the cars around him were vibrating in circles, wheel covers shaking off and rattling to the street. Yep, we all know how initimidating a 70-year old can be...

There is an undercurrent of meanness in our country that is unnerving to me. I experience it or observe it every day (hey, I drive in Altamonte Springs Florida, aggressive, mean driving is a favorite pastime of ours).

Just a reminder to all of us...let's come against the meanness with kindness. When we allow ourselves to be rude and mean we fail to love others, we fail our kids and if we have any conscience, we fail ourselves. We know better. And when we are stupid or mean (come on EVERYONE has their moments...some their hours) we should allow ourselves to feel ashamed and we should work HARD to change. Let's give our kids a model to follow and respect and something better for them to live up to.

--Jim Kochenburger

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Here is the link to the story, courtesy of Fox News: http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,425324,00.html

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Fun on Flight 1703 (The Zippy and Lippy Show or Dad Gone Wild!)

This past Christmas season my family and I traveled to New York City, (a favorite destination of ours--especially around Christmas). The trip was amazing--Central Park, The Grinch and A Color Purple on Broadway (go Fantasia!), pizza at Famous Ray's (on 42nd St.), M&M's superstore, breakfast in a diner with singing serving staff, and a number of memorably aromatic cab rides:) A good time was had by all. And now we were flying home to the land of Mickey Mouse--with a plane packed full of giddy would-be mouseketeers.


There were no signs of trouble initially, all was well. Take-off and climb to cruising altitude--no flames, sudden dives, or oxygen masks dropping down--so, you know, a good flight. There were four young kids and an elderly couple occupying the two rows in front of mine...the couple was not connected with the kids. But I didn't panic--the kids were being kids (a little loud, a little rambunctious) but they were cool--nothing outrageous. I turned up the ipod and we all settled in for a fun flight.

Then he arrived...(not actual, but similar)

Before I continue, there is one thing you need to know about me: I need more patience, have needed more all my life (slow learner), so God sends me a pretty steady flow of "helpers" to help build my character.

For example, if there is a guy in a church service who is tone deaf and bellowing with abandon to the worship songs, look over and you'll see me--right in front of him.

Guy who takes a cell phone call during a movie, talking loud ("Hey man, yo, what up?...")--he's right behind me.

Slow, oblivious drivers using their cell phones, listing back and forth between the lines--there I am, right behind them (Serenity...NOW).


My latest "helper" (let's call him "Zippy"--name changed to protect the guilty) came tearing up the aisle and slid to the row in front of me (safe!)--to peals of laughter from the children in front of me. Zippy, a young "real smart kid" of 10 or 11 stood up and fell down HARD on top of two of his friends, dragging himself over them as they shouted in pain...all the way to the window seat (directly in front of me--of course). He said a "soap in your mouth" word and pulled a younger boy out of the seat. When the younger boy tried to resist and cried out in pain, Zippy predictably replied "Cry baby, cry! Waaaahhhh...Waaaaahh... Waaaaah... repeat... repeat." Finally, with a loud, "I'm gonna tell mom!", the younger boy fled to the back of the plane, no doubt to where the proud parents of Zippy were.

Zippy had barely plunked down in his seat before slamming down his seat back, knocking my ipod (my favorite possession in the whole wide world) off the tray :) He then began a repertoire of mischief that was pushing every button in this dad who needs patience (Serenity...NOW!).

First he thought it would be fun to REPEATEDLY hit his head and back against his seat back with great force--for several minutes. Unable to use my tray, I shut it (with slightly more force than necessary--he got the hint). I thanked God for my children.

Touching the hair and face of the girl in front of him was his favorite, which she thought was fun the first 50 times or so, but after like the 500th time, her patience was wearing thin and she was shrieking at him ("Stop it Zippy, I mean it!", "I'm going to tell your mother", Quit it!") all to the "enjoyment" of the elderly couple beside her. This went on for like an hour (or 10-15 minutes). What fun--wish I had a tazer! (I close my eyes and imagine tazering Zippy...and smile.) (Serenity...NOW!)

Throwing things was Zippy's next best idea. Napkins, ice and snack items were his favorite ammo. And he began stealing the same from his friends for more ammo. Which means there was a CONSTANT bickering and arguing. My right eye was starting to twitch. I am now looking for something to throw...something hard....can't find. (Serenity...NOW!)

Profanity laced acapella rap by the young lad was the final "gift" bestowed on me and the elderly couple nearby. Zippy's previous victim, the young girl, tried to shush him--trying to help him behave--which of course only encouraged him to get louder and to refer to her as a "Ho!", as in "Shut up, Ho!" Things were WAY out of hand. That was the final straw. The young girl stood with a huff, then clambered over the feet of the elderly couple and went to the rear of the plane. She returned with a reluctant authority figure--Zippy's dad. Yay!! (God had heard my fervent prayer. Surely now everything would be better. Right? Not so fast.)

Zippy was glad to see dad--let's call him Lippy (you'll know why in a minute). No sooner had dad displaced the child in the aisle seat, and moved Zippy beside him into the middle seat, when HE started doing the SAME THINGS his son had been doing. I WISH I was lying.

Lippy was a "real smart dad" so he began throwing napkins, ice, snacks. He started bothering the little girl that his spawn had been bothering--in the process accidentally kicking the seat of the elderly man in front of him several times, hard. (The elderly man was no doubt thinking, "I have what maybe a few more years left and I have to deal with THIS??"). Though dad didn't bust a profane rhyme, he had something EVEN BETTER.

He started making FART noises--yes, loud, ugly FART noises. An adult man...probably in his forties...making FART noises--to the giggles and laughter of the children, especially Zippy, who just beamed with validation and pride. He and dad were bonding. And Lippy went ON and ON doing this.

Finally, the old man seated in front of the father got up, turned around and said "Excuse me, how old are you?"

Lippy is shocked by this, because he is, well...missing the "consideration" gene, absolutely clueless.

"Old enough to know better sir, [FART noise]" is his "real smart" reply. The old man simply sat down. Zippy and Lippy kept one another entertained with FART noises for the remainder of the flight, to the misery :) of everyone around them.

(Serenity...NOW!)

Hillary Clinton famously said, "It takes a village to raise a child." I would add, "It takes only the village idiot to raise an idiot. :)

To the parents who don't understand what Lippy did wrong :) just a word--connecting with your kids doesn't mean behaving WORSE than them. Say no to stupid. Say YES to maturity. Maturity wants to be your friend. Maturity good.

(Serenity...NOW!)

(Disclaimer: No child is a true idiot---there is hope for them and some adults. We're all sometimes "idiots." No idiots were harmed in the writing of this blog or by the blog writer. And normally we love stupid people, just harder to do when we are trapped on a plane with them. Oh, and no I would never tazer a child, nor do I condone, etc., etc.)

--Jim Kochenburger

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Go Dutch on Parenting?

In a recent article, "Why are Dutch children so happy?" children in the Netherlands were rated #1 in the world in "happiness", according to UNICEF's league table for child well-being (United States rated #20 of 21 industrialized nations). And though this may surprise you, they are NOT happy due to the way cool wooden shoes, windmills, cheese, or tulips :)

Just a few highlights of how The Netherlands compares to other industrialized countries. We'll start with the "good" stuff first:

• Less pressure is put on kids at school--teachers expect less of them. (I bet they accomplished this through F-CAT, C-CAT, tulip-CAT, whatever testing...ahem.)


• They are rich. Schooling is excellent. Good careers are not hard to find. (Okay, good. Of course, this is a lot easier with a country of 16.5 million versus, say 305 million in the US--and I guess if we went legal a lot of our kids could grow up and sell drugs legally too!)


• Low percentage of young mothers in the labor force, comparatively. Strong tendency for mothers to raise children--take a long time off work after children are born. (Cool.)


• Families are very open and communicative. (Good stuff!)


• Parents provide a highly protective, highly positive, caring family environment. ("Good things!")

Now things get controversial:

• Children almost rule the family--deciding what happens in the family. ...there can be a lack of balance between the happiness of the child and that of the parent, as the parent works harder to grant the wishes of the child." (hmm, maybe we in the US are going Dutch...)


• Liberal attitudes toward drinking, drugs and sex. These things are not serious matters to Dutch parents. (Hmmmm, I mean you put these things together--kids dancing in them wooden shoes, drugs and so on--well nothing but trouble will come of it.)

So what do you think about all of this? Comment below!

Here is the link to the article, dated 8/22/08: http://www.inform.kz/showarticle3.php?lang=eng&id=168856

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I Am in Dulles Airport on 9/11...Observing Parents and Others

I am sitting in Dulles Airport, in DC, on 9/11 after missing my return flight home. (Love them last minute gate changes that aren't clearly communicated--I stepped away to browse books--must have been then.)

When I asked the woman at the gate what happened, she explained, I guess. It was in such a thick accent, I just couldn't understand a word (it was like calling HP support). I apologized for not understanding and asked her to repeat what she said. She looked at me sourly and loudly repeated what she said (as if shouting it loud enough would suddenly make me understand her language.) A sympathetic fellow traveler clued me in. Brother--a 3-hour wait.

I go to buy a pretzel...I wait until the pretzel person gets done talking to her friends before she waits on me. After I order my pretzel, she resumes the conversation...I have to interrupt to let her know I would like a drink. I was nice. She acts like I was rude. Perhaps she is not living her dream at the pretzel shop.

As I stroll back to the gate, I see a French woman is in her child's face, then slapping him on his arm for throwing a temper tantrum over a candy bar he wants. Perhaps she is unaware that "in this great country" of Patriot Fries, we do not strike small fries...and how lucky she is we don't call a cop over to do his job and cart her off to the slammer. Maybe I'll call...I have time to kill. (I decide not because she stops--and my pretzel isn't getting any warmer or softer.)

I sit down and bite into my pretzel. Mmmm.

My bliss is interrupted by an elderly woman on the cell phone beside me. She is talking to her son, describing some intestinal "irritable bowel" type symptoms--in detail. How happy he must be to have picked up the phone. As our parents get older, one of the toughest issues to get used to is their preoccupation with physical maladies (not my parents...others "Hi mom!")

So vivid is her description, frequncy, color, consistency--my stomach is queasy. I leave my pretzel for later when I can block this lady's conversation out of my mind.

I retire to the restroom in case I can't recover--seeking a refuge. The guy in the stall next to me is using the toilet (sitting down) and is also on the phone with his assistant, a woman--you can just tell. I flush like 5 times on purpose. Person on phone with him must have asked "Where are you?" He says, "In the bathroom." She gets off the phone fast. He has no clue why. Of course. (Friend, if you are so important and busy that you even have to use the phone when going #2...you're too busy...and nobody's that important.) By the way, he is still fiddling with his phone when he leaves--he doesn't wash his hands. These kind never do.

A toddler beside me is eating a bag of candy. It is after 9 PM. Kid is doing handstands and somersaults, double back flips (no lie!), jumping, dancing, leaping, stepping all over my feet. You could have put up a tent around this tot and charged admission. The young mother--bless her heart--is shouting faux "correctives" REALLY LOUD (I have a headache, and she isn't using her "inside voice"), "ARE YOU EXCITED ABOUT SEEING MINNIE?"

"YES!!!!" her daughter screams and whirls.

"ARE YOU GOING TO BE GOOD, CAUSE MINNIE WANTS YOU TO BE GOOD?!"

"YES!" as she spins and falls on the elderly lady on the other side of me.

"SAY YOU'RE SORRY FOR FALLING ON THE OLD LADY!"

"NO!"

"WELL, THAT WON'T MAKE MINNIE HAPPY!"

"P-P-S-P-L-P-L-P-S--L-P-L (raspberry sounds). ME...NOT CARE!!!!!"

Being Mr. Parentconsensus, I think of stepping in to cast a few pearls of fatherly wisdom to this mom, or to smile sympathetically and nod knowingly, but just then, the little girl falls and hits her head on the floor. She is screaming and crying. Mom is shouting "comfort" phrases over her daughter's boo-boo, boo-hoo's...which, surprisingly :) seems to make things worse.

"DID YOU GO BOOM?"

"DID YOU FAH DOWN?"

"OH, YOU'RE OKAY?" "OHHHHH-OH-OH, YOU'RE OKAY, ETC., REPEAT...REPEAT...REPEAT.

My head is splitting now.

I am called to board. Just in time. Whew!

I get to my seat to find my new seatmates...

"WHAT DOES MINNIE SAY?..."

--Jim Kochenburger

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I Talked to My Daughter Last Night: A Father's Joy

I didn't want to. I was tired. There was a show on TV I wanted to watch. I wanted to work on this blog and the website.

Just before she came into the room I was thinking about how everything in my life has become too much "have to," too little "choose to." I felt I had good reason to make my plan and be selfish about it.

Bottom line: Nothing in me wanted to talk.

Kristin enters stage left. Honestly, I groaned internally..."Oh no...here we go, I see another 'have to' coming." I brighten for a moment thinking, perhaps it will be something easily handled, like...

"What are we having for dinner?" (Ask mom), or

"Can I get a navel piercing, a bunch of my friends do?" (HECK no), or

"This boy really likes me and wants me to go out with him" (I have a shotgun, a shovel and I am not afraid to go to jail :) .)

Nope.

Turns out she wants to talk about going out on school nights, about rules, about trust, about friends. It started off rough--cause she wanted me to loosen a few things. Now thanks to my friends at http://www.parentconsensus.com/ I know my "rules" and expectations for Kristin are consistent with what other parents I respect are saying and doing. I stood firm and stayed loving.

Then we went deeper. She talked, I listened. I talked, she listened. It got heavy. It went light. At times we laughed. At times she had tears in her eyes (I didn't--I just had something in my eye...honest). We got to the root of some self-image stuff. I shared stuff from my own teen years that she identified with. I got to share stuff I've learned (changing our self-talk, changing our "tapes" as Glasser would say).

We connected, we bonded. We hugged several times...we ended with a butterfly kiss (just like when she was little).

Over two hours later, we are done. We've shared our hearts. We had a priceless "moment." We broke through together. In our talk we learned things about one another that we didn't know--even after 15 years together.

And to think I might have settled for a nap and TV.

I am tired, but my heart is full.

--Jim Kochenburger

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Parents: Are You Good TV or Bad TV?

Last week, police officers in Trenton, New Jersey were called to the home of Evelyn DeLeon, after neighbors reported hearing a woman's persistent cries of "Help me! Help me!" When police officers arrived, they kicked in the door to make the rescue...and found a caged pet cockatoo named Luna who had mastered a very convincing call.

This was not the first time.

Apparently, almost seven years ago, police were dispatched to the same home due to reports of a possible abandoned baby. Sounds of a baby's cries had been non-stop all day long. Police and state child welfare workers were dispatched to the home to intervene, only to find Luna practicing a newfound sound.

Apparently Luna knows a lot of phrases--in English and Spanish--due to watching TV. (Source, AP, Sep. 5, 2008)

I'd like to use Luna as a reminder that our kids are like her--taking in all that they see and hear, deciding what to imitate, what to try on for size...words, emotions, attitudes, actions, all of it. And they love imitating us the most.

Sometimes our children's choices of what to imitate are a source of pride for us, but sometimes, their choices can be humorous or, yes, even embarrassing. (And sometimes, let's face it, they make up their own material and we fear people might think they are imitating us!)

We are the TV our kids are watching. But there is no DVR picking and choosing what they can see--no instant replay. No "erase" to get rid of what we "done did." There is no fast forward or rewind to try and gloss over or minimize our bad example moments. (And we can't slow-mo and bask in our shining moments.)

There we are, on the screen, in living color, in real time, for better or for worse. Little eyes and ears are locked onto us. We are must see TV for them.

What an incredible opportunity we have, as parents, to mold and shape young lives. Let us never take that lightly. Let's make sure we are always "good TV."

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School By Cell Phone--The Future Is Now

(Somerset Grove, New York: September 6, 2008)

"Teenagers are connecting by phone nowadays. And if we want to connect with them, we must do so by phone," asserts superintendent Ronald Charsky, when asked about record high testing scores credited to the so-called "Cell Phone School" educational approach. Since the original story broke (right here) and was picked by all major newswires, District Superintendents from all over the nation have been calling Superintendent Charsky, urging him to "share the gold."

So what's all the fuss about? It's about what's going on at Somerset Grove High in Somerset Grove, New York--the original cell phone school.

In a nutshell, this cutting edge cell phone school approach revolves around leveraging the psychosocial dynamic between the teen and his or her cell phone to optimize engagement in the educational process by maximizing brain activity levels, which of course enlarges the entire focus matrix, increasing complex and simple data retention, thus facilitating genuine learning. Or, as one teacher sums it up, "its rilly kewl."

Though most teachers gush about how the new approach is "the future of our profession happening now", some are not happy, like Lois Espenport (now retired) who describes the whole cell phone school phenomena as nothing more then "telecom voodoo hoo-ha."

Key components of this revolutionary new approach are:

Class conferencing. "Before class conferencing, when we tried to hold classroom discussions, the kids were SO bored and very few participated", recalls Bill Burnell, English teacher at Somerset. "Now we have them all conference in by phone and listen to the teacher...and participation in discussion has increased dramatically--it's totally awesome."

Celia Santsky, a history teacher at Somerset adds, "It may look a little strange to an outsider, to see a classroom full of people all communicating via cell phones, but it works! It's just something about having that ear to the phone, like psychologically, it just keeps kids calm and tuned in. It's better than Ritalin!"

Text only rule. Tests and quizzes are taken via texting only, as well as class notes. Even research papers and essays are texted. "To tell you the truth, our teachers were unable to read the student's handwriting anymore. Kids were having extreme difficulty grasping pens and pencils, so their handwriting had deteriorated to the point of illegibility", explains former typing teacher, Sandra McCoy.

Now re-assigned to the school media center, McCoy continues, "The teenagers lost the ability to use any fingers to type-aside from their thumbs and index fingers. The muscles in the other fingers had atrophied to the point where they could no longer depress the keys of the keyboard. Besides, even the fastest typist could not keep up with the average texter...so what's the point?"

Text Language classes added. Lobbied by concerned teachers, students, and parents, the school board received special state approval to replace the teaching of all foreign languages with the teaching of "Text Language." Since teachers failed miserably with teaching Text Language, a peer teaching model was created to let the experts (i.e. students) do the teaching.

Aside from the "SexTextGate" scandal, the new approach seems to be a smashing success. ("SexTextGate--Student leaders of the campus Bible study proved "profane and sexually explicit texting" was being taught by student teachers motivated by lower moral aspiration than their own--unbeknownst to school authority figures.) Caitlyn Savoy, Peer Teaching Student Department Head sums it up "idk, jest kewl my bff's get 2 teach."

"You can't argue with science" states Principal Kathleen Edwards, "in our testing, at even the sight of a cell phone, the tested teen's brainwave activity became remarkable. When they held a cell phone, the readings were off the charts."

"In contrast, at the sight of a picture of a teacher, or the sound of every teachers voice we tested, it was like someone turned off the kid's brainwaves like a light switch! At the sound of a ringtone, we saw a sudden burst in brainwave activity. The teacher's voice over a cell phone WAS able to register a brainwave reaction that we did consider acceptable for our current curriculum."

Interesting odds and ends. The crinkling sound of a Dorito's bag, ice cream truck music, Taco Bell commercials, and the smell of Axe body spray, all triggered significant response. So did the theme song for South Park (in guys), and The Hills (in girls). Interestingly, brainwave activity virtually disappeared as the tested teens actually viewed the shows. Strangely, all parent's voices were unable to trigger any activity at all."

--Arial Hall reporting.

All that to say...here is a good article with some good advice when weighing the decision whether or not to buy your child a cell phone: http://www.cnn.com/2008/TECH/ptech/08/11/cellphones.kids/index.html

Want to see the website every parent needs? Go to http://www.parentconsensus.com/

Do you love your teenager? Do you at least like movies? Then you'll want a copy of the book, Movie Clips That Get Your Family Talking, at: http://www.parentconsensus.com/index.php?p=Store

Parents: You Are What You Click...

It used to be said, "You are what you eat." Bill Tancer , author of the new book, Click: What Millions of People Are Doing Online and Why it Matters. insists that nowadays, "You are what you click."

Tancer leads global research at Hitwise, an online market research company. His job is basically that of discovering the behavior of online users, primarily as a marketing tool, but much of what he discovers provides interesting nuggets on the impact of the internet on our culture, society and families.

Since I will not receive his book from Amazon until Thursday, I had to settle for viewing some entries from his blog, which I found on the Amazon book page. (To see Tancer's blog, go to http://blogs.abcnews.com/click/2008/07/searching-for-a.html )

Along with facts like at any point in time 30% of Internet users are grazing porn online, I also found some info you parents may value.

What are the top 10 internet queries containing "fear of." (As of July 7, 2008)
1. Fear of flying


2. Fear of heights
3. Fear of communism (???)
4. Fear of intimacy
5. Fear of clowns (who ISN'T afraid of clowns??)
6. Fear of dying
7. Fear of commitment
8. Fear of darkness
9. Fear of death
10. Fear of germs

(More on fear coming in my blog this weekend...ths was just the appetizer.)

Tancer also discovered these internet searches in common with people who searched for the current presidential candidates (form your own opinions):

People who went to the site barackobama.com also tended to make these searches as well:
News: Washington Post
Television: PBS online
Shopping: IKEA
Dating: Match.com
Music: Linkin Park
Apparel: DSW
Baseball: Red Sox

People who went to the site johnmccain.com also tended to make these searches as well:
News: USA Today

Television: Food Network
Shopping: Bed, Bath, and Beyond
Dating: eharmony
Music: The Jonas Brothers
Apparel: Footsmart
Baseball: Yankees

Good news--you can buy Tancer's book through the Parentconsensus store and get the low Amazon price: http://www.parentconsensus.com/index.php?p=Store the book is on page 3 of the store.

So based on what you click on the internet...who are you? And based on what your kids are clicking on the Internet, who are they? (See the software SpectorPro in the Parentconsensus store to find out what your children are clicking online.)

Visit the website every parent needs, http://www.parentconsensus.com/! (Sign up for the parentconsensus e-newsletter--see the header at the top of the page.)

Do you love movies? Do you love your teen? This book is for you: 101 Movie Clips That Get Families Talking. See more about this here: http://www.parentconsensus.com/index.php?p=Store

Parents: The Ticking Crocodile Chases Each of Us

Not long ago I was enjoying lunch at a local favorite Mexican restaurant of mine here in Orlando (Tijuana Flats). At the table next to me was a dad in his thirties, sitting with his daughter--a young girl of six or seven. She was wearing a nice blue-flowered dress, had a ribbon in her hair--she was dolled up, suggesting this might be a "special" time of some sort.

I loved it...a dad and daughter, sharing a lunch out together. I am a sucker for that stuff--seeing dad's "into" their kids. So I paid attention. I thought I just might have a warm observation/ entry for this blog.

Sadly, I was wrong.

Though this dad had the right idea about being "there" with his daughter--sadly, he never showed up.

Predictably, he was wearing his bluetooth earpiece. Since he hadn't arrived in a helicopter, and there was no briefcase handcuffed to his wrist, my guess was, he didn't have his finger on the nuclear button--so no real need to keep that earpiece in. When he received a call and yukked it up for a few minutes with "Carl", who apparently was a "Dumb s__ of a b___!" asking, "How the h___ are ya?"--I knew for sure he had no reason to wear it.

(Hey--had the discussion veered even once from the inanities of "Hey man, how much beer DID you drink that night?" into aerospace technology or miltary jargon, I'd have given him the benefit of the doubt--this guy was no rocket scientist.)

Almost immediately after the Carl call, our boy hollered a "Go Gators!" greeting to the Tebow-jerseyed guy at the next table, and, for the next 30 minutes talked about how great the Florida Gators would be again this year(which is by itself annoying to me, a Florida State Seminoles fan. We've become a little thin-skinned and extra sensitive around Gators fans over the last few years.)
"Tebow...he, he, he once threw a football 200 yards--a guy I know saw him." Blah-blah.
"Tebow, even if he had just one arm, I bet he could still get the Heisman." Blah-blah.
"Tebow, if he was like running for President...watch out Obama!" Blah-blah. You get the gist. BLAH-blah!

Our boy said not ONE word to his daughter the ENTIRE time. She sat there silently, having long-finished her food, sipping her drink. She tried to get his attention a few times...but even then, when he heard her, he shushed her.

As I left, the girl was begging her father "Can we just go???" Needless to say "Can we just go??" is not how any dad "sees" his daddy-daughter time ending.

As I drove back to work, I took a little stroll down memory lane...

It was a daddy/daughter "date" with my 3-year old daughter, Kristin, (now 15--going on 20). Back then, I set aside time each week to focus on Kristin for a couple hours instead of the usual few minutes at a time. Though we varied the plan--the playground, an ice cream shop, children's section at a bookstore, and others--her favorite destination for one-on-one time with dad was the Barbie aisle of the local toy store. (I did a LOT of time in the Barbie aisle--almost had to trade in my "man card.")

On the way she would happily chat my ear off with giggly stories, and questions ("Daddy, why is sky?"), mixed with sing-a-longs to Veggie Tales ("I Love My Lips") and Barney.

Every date would end the same way...with a chocolate milkshake. Milkshake in hand, I would say, "Baby, always stay little, okay?"
"Okay daddy!", she said with a giggle and little kick of her legs. (It was the first playful "banter" we shared.) I'll never forget her little red cheeks, chubby little knees and her fine hair styled in what I called a "bee-paw" ribbon scrunchy, giving her that "Pebbles" look.

I'll never, ever forget those smiles, those songs, those happy times. And when I face trials with my teenage Kristin...I call on these memories, of my little girl and I find new reserves of patience, and love.

Time marches on. Kids grow up. Hopefully, we are left with the deep connections we forged, and the memories we made (not those we didn't).

In the story of Peter Pan, there is a crocodile who swallows a clock, who pursues Captain Hook endlessly. But he's not the only one. That ticking "clock croc" pursues us all.

Randy Pausch, in his book, The Last Lecture, writes, "Manage your time well...Time is finite....Time is all you have. And you may find one day that you have less than you think."

The croc is ticking...

(Special note: You know the Barbie aisle has a special place in my heart :) Well it does for a blogging friend of mine as well. Check out the blog Barbies4Sale at this link: http://barbies4sale.blogspot.com/ )

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Need good quality time with your teen? Use the book, 101 Movie Clips That Get Families Talking. FInd out more here: http://www.parentconsensus.com/index.php?p=Store