Much Happiness!

Given how busy everyone is lately I thought I might take the liberty of writing a couple of speeches for you. I know it may seem like the wedding of your son is some years away, but tempus seems to keep on fugit-ing, whatever that means, so let’s not wait to the last minute like you did with those college admissions essays, shall we?

Here are two possible toasts. Tell me which one you look forward to reciting at the meal after the ceremony.

 1) “Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention, please? Thank you so much. You know, speaking of attention, I thought this guy here would never graduate from high school given how severely attention deficit and hyperactive he was. Yeah, we butted heads year in and year out. I remember the time I told him to do his homework or else get the hell out of the house and we got in a fist fight so he went to live under a bridge for a few weeks. Yeah, I thought HRS would never leave us alone. But things worked out after the law suits settled and I stapled my son’s legs to a chair. He finally got the proper academic credentials and is now an associate at Hummadinger and Dreck although we don’t speak more than twice a year.”

2) Almost anything else.

Maybe something involving joy.

You don’t want to look back on the years from toddlerhood through early 20s as an unrelenting series of unpleasant conversations in which your dissatisfaction with who your kid is and what he does is the only communication. “Do your homework! Read a book! Write that admissions essay!”

Let me be more specific. Parents spend a tremendous amount of time telling their kids what to do, what to think, what to feel. Some of this information is doubtless useful–put your shoes on, get a vaccination, go to college. But some of it, I might argue, is a bit over the top. I hear stories about parents who do homework for their kids. I hear rumors about parents who write college application essays for their offspring. I’m told that there are parents who spend more time working on their children’s resumes than they do talking to their actual children.

Dr. Spock’s Baby and Child Care was first published just after the war. By the time of Benjamin’s death in 1998, 50 million copies had been sold. The book has insight into feeding schedules, potty training, dog bites, and tantrums. But the best advice of all remains, “put down the book, pick up the baby.” Similarly, for parents concerned about college applications, gentle guidance might include, “focus on the child, not on the college.”

Because a kid who has skills will do well wherever she matriculates. You heard it here first: a child who knows how to study and is relatively free of process addictions will do fine in the classroom and out. Okay, you didn’t hear it here first. The research is clear. Kids who have the ability (time management, study skills, motivation) to go to “top” schools but choose State U instead go on to professional school just as frequently as if they ended up with a big name sweatshirt.

And what could you do with all the time NOT spent padding the resume? What could you do with the time NOT committed to graduating at the top of your class? You and your son could hike a significant portion of the Appalachian Trail. (Admission: Free.) You and your son could attend every baseball game of that small college near your home. (Tickets, third base side, eight dollars each.) You and your son could buy copies of The Amazing Spiderman issues 50 through 100. (In good condition, these issues typically go for $30 or $40 each. You could buy them all for less than what you were going to spend on preparation for the SAT.) In short, you and your son could spend some no agenda time together, silently enjoying one another’s company.

And wouldn’t THAT be something to talk about during the toast at your son’s wedding?