The Take-Away Box

This was my genius when my girl was in her elementary grades.

The idea was born after years of seeing her leave personal things out, night after night. Things like shoes, craft items, coats... I got so tired of hearing my own voice almost nagging, I invented The Take-AWAY Box. If we found one of her belongings laying around once she went to bed, it went into TTAB. Bye-bye!

In order to use the item ever again, she had to purchase the rights back from us. Examples: a pair of shoes not put away? Into the box. Raincoat not hung up? Into the box. Markers not put away? Into the box.

So... how much did we charge? Just 25 cents per item. Bummer for you if we found 12 markers laying on the table.

I clearly remember our girl having to "buy back" her raincoat one day, and that other time when she needed to get back her violin.

It took awhile to get our point across, and I used to rub my hands together and say "Mama needs a mocha!!"

This whole idea only worked when we were faithful in regularly distributing her allowance. At one point, all of it came back to us in the form of a mocha for me (decaf of course).

When she was in middle school, she was perturbed that I had shared this idea with her friend's parents. By then I had taught her about compound interest and the 25 cent ding multiplied big time. The stuff in the box had to be retrieved. If she thought she could just abandon her stuff to the box, well... we had an "app for that" too. It was called donation to Goodwill.

"Mom!! Quit sharing your parenting ideas with my friends' parents!" That was one of my favorite unrequested feedback comments from a girl who is now an awesome adult who manages her life very well.

I fondly look back on that training period and all of those free mochas... and yes, we did this cheerfully and calmly. After all, I got at least one mocha per week...

The Buzz About the Shot Up Laptop

If you are a YouTube fan, you might have already seen the viral video with frustrated father Tommy in his cowboy hat ranting about his ungrateful 15-year old daughter. He ends up dumping 8 hollow point bullets into her laptop to prove his point.

Dr. Laura replayed the audio of his video the other day, then read only the supportive comments. Our Youth Pastor sent out the link plus Tommy's own follow up prior to that. I read parent comments on Tommy's video and commented on the parent page at our church. I LOVE that a dad taking a stand is generating so much buzz! We need more dads who do this - forget about the cigarette or the gun or even the anger. Go dads who stand up!

I sent Tommy a comment (that I doubt he will get to read because he now has so much to peruse online) that I respected him taking a stand, but thought there could be a better way... the reality discipline way. After watching his video, I felt sure that after shooting up his girl's laptop, he would remind her day after day that she used to have a laptop, and had she not been so ungrateful, she still would have one and now she will just have to wait til age 18 to buy her own.

Hey, I am all for kids experiencing the consequence of their behavior and having to endure the waiting period to repurchase a "lost item" or privilege, but I vote NO on reminding them about their losses. Zipping parental lips is the hardest thing to do, and I ought to know, I use 39,000 words/day!

The reality discipline way to do things is to do them, but do them as if you are on valium. The key words are as if.I told Tommy that I might have shot up the laptop (or wanted to), but not let my kid see that part. Surely I agree that it is gone. I would just tell them it was gone because of __________, period. When they have a job and can buy a new one, great.

There is nothing like that agreeable shrug. "Yeah, I would wish I still had a laptop, too." Compare that with, "See?! Now you don't have that laptop anymore!! See?! See???"

Which response would impact a teen for the better?

What is the goal of removing the laptop, anyway? If it is to teach a lesson, then I say remove it by selling it and letting someone else gain the benefit of the new software. The kid can still experience the loss and won't see a dad out on a limb... A limb any parent can certainly understand.

The more I look at and experience parenting scenarios (aka opportunities) the more I believe it is about the less we say.

Remember that adage? Actions speak louder than words. Hey fellow parents, let's let 'em!

The Hardest Disciplinary Decision We Ever Made

When our daughter was 17, we told her she could have the family van with its 119,000 miles to drive. She shuddered at the thought of driving the van, so we told her she could have the value of it if we could get it sold. The value we got wasn’t enough to buy her beloved dream car – a BMW as old as she was that cost a few thousand more.

She begged and begged to purchase that car. We made her do all kinds of research to learn how much maintenance and upkeep would be. She stated she understood but still pleaded with us to at least go look. Her father took her to see the car, and it was in excellent condition. We agreed to take out a loan for the difference between the cost of the van and the purchase of the BMW. The conditions were that she must pay us $200 per month to cover the loan and the car insurance. She would pay for her own gas, oil, tabs and any maintenance.

For the first few months she was pretty much on time with payments. Then she’d slide by a week or so and we’d give her grace. Then she was a month behind. “I just didn’t get that many hours at work.” We gave her grace again, but told her that was it. In the real world they come and take your car away after three months. She nodded and caught up partially. Then came two more months of missed payments.

Selling her car was such a hard thing to do! It was a beautiful vehicle and having her drive herself everywhere she needed to go was much more convenient for us. In fact, losing her car put an additional three hours of driving on me per day. Friends told me we were nuts – we should just let her drive to school so we would not be so inconvenienced. Not a chance, I told them. I’d rather be inconvenienced so that she could experience the reality of her actions and the reality of our word so that she would become a productive adult. The friends shook their heads at me.

I use this story in every parenting workshop I conduct to encourage parents not to be afraid to take a stand and mean it. Yes it may be hard on us for a time, but the life lesson is well worth an inconvenience. Many parents gasp when they hear what we did and have a look on their faces that says we were too extreme.

The proof is in the results. My daughter is now an adult and tells me that losing her car was the best thing that could have happened to her and that she is so glad we took it away from her. Yes it was worth the extra year in traffic! I’ve got a “big girl” who stands on her own responsible feet and understands the decisions we made were for her good.