I'VE got it.
The problem with so many kids of today is simple. We've allowed them to think they have super powers and we, the grown-ups, need their rescuing.
This idea has been fuelled by their daily diet of television programs, movies and DVD games.
Spy kids, Ace Ventura Pet Detective, Cody Banks, Harry Potter, to name a few, have the pre-teen youngsters who can't even wash their own underwear believe they can save the world.
Back when I was child, the adults were the heroes - and some of them wore their underpants on the outside to prove it.
What adult heroes have we got today? Homer Simpson?
I've taken to reading the books my children enjoy to get some understanding of what motivates them.
I've read Zac Power, I've read Captain Underpants and lately I've been reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid.
It's made me think about writing my own book. A kind of reveal-all.
It needed a cracker title or it's not going to make it into a Hollywood blockbuster.
Diary of a Super Mum won't cut it.
I turned to my own kids for inspiration. Samuel suggested "Captain Fartymum".
Honestly, that child, everything revolves around gas with him.
Thomas likes "How to make your parents do what you want…"
Not a bad idea, except my book is not going to be some boring old list.
Finally I've decided on "The Candid Confessions your kids must never find out".
My first entry went like this:
I know it's childish, but I flipped the bird at my kids.
As I did it, I knew I probably looked totally idiotic - a grown-up showing them the middle finger and then storming out of the house.
It was the kind of juvenile behaviour I'd expect from them and now I was the one doing it.
But what do you do when you've exhausted all options of getting their attention?
Yell? Tried that. Smack? Been there done that. Take away privileges? That punishes me more than them.
So I had a tantrum.
The "bird" definitely had the desired reaction. And running away also worked except I had them running behind me
I could only make it about 50 metres into the street before I had to return salvage my dignity and apologise for my appalling behaviour.
By the time I got back home, they were the stunned, albeit obedient children I'd been trying to discover for the past hour.
I had their attention and I could sit down and explain why I needed them to listen, why I was so frustrated and why I was ready to walk out the door.
After reading my first entry I've realised Homer Simpson and I have a lot in common.
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