It’s Not You, It’s Them

Seismic Faults

Parental Judgment Fault

Much was written at the time about the under age driver of the Corvette: should his parents have helped him to get a driver’s license even though he was not of legal driving age? Should his parents have bought him a second Corvette when he wrapped the first one around a telephone pole a few weeks before the incident described above? Should the parents have proclaimed, “He was not to blame… it wasn’t my son’s fault”?

Then whose fault was it? Three dead kids and another kid who will never walk again. Doesn’t it seem like someone was at fault. The death and destruction didn’t “just happen.” An earthquake is something that happens. A car traveling 50 miles over the speed limit impresses me as different. If the car accident didn’t “just happen,” then whose fault was it?

Not mine, I hope you would agree. I was home that night watching my beloved children, aged two and three, sleep snuggled in their jammies and the panda slippers that they didn’t take off except to bathe until they started middle school. Neither was the fault yours, gentle reader.

Since there seems to be enough blame to go around yet no one is at fault, let us turn our attention to the subject of trust. Blame and trust may not occupy the same room, but they certainly live on the same hall. “You don’t trust me” is a common lament among teenagers.

“I can’t believe you want me home by eleven!” a daughter opines. “Don’t you remember when you were my age?”

“Of course I remember when I was your age,” her father responds. “That’s why I want you home by eleven.”

Or stated less cleverly: The response to “Don’t you trust me?” is, “Of course we trust you; it’s them we don’t trust.”

Okay, then we are agreed that we don’t want our children turning left on 17th Avenue at three in the morning. How do we convince our beloved children that we trust them but that we want them home by eleven just the same, that “nothing good happens after midnight”? How do we both convey and inspire trust while accepting that the population out and about in the wee hours of the morning are over represented by police officers, EMTs, and criminals?

By, er, trusting our kids would be a good place to start. By trusting them to make little mistakes when they’re little, we allow them to develop the good judgment to avoid making big mistakes when they’re big. Doing our best not to be an “I told you so” when their little-kid-imperfect-judgment works out the way you knew it would is also a big help.

The other question I always think about is “who benefits?” Imposing a curfew because you had a curfew when you were a kid is about you. Imposing a curfew to punish your kids is also about you. Imposing a curfew because you don’t trust your kids to use good judgment means that something is already imperfect with your relationship with your kids. Whereas imposing a curfew because you want to keep your kids safe is about them. Curfews to keep your kids away from the children of parents who have helped their 15-year-old lie to obtain a fraudulent driver’s license and buy him one Corvette after another certainly makes sense to me.

“It’s about the relationship, stupid” a politician might have said. Connection, alignment, and attunement with your kids lessens the likelihood of tragedy.

Because you just don’t want your kids out at three in the morning.

Trust me on that one.