We teach our children to navigate so much. So why do we neglect this important lesson?
Have you ever seen a mama bird being chased by hungry, equally sized offspring who squawk loudly for their meals? The mama will dig up a worm and stuff it down an adult-sized baby’s throat. The “baby” might have a fuzzy feather or two still clinging to its sleek, adult feathers, but it can fly. And it could undoubtedly dig up its own worms.
I am that bird, caring for my young for just a tiny bit longer.
My parenting objectives have shifted drastically, now exclusively focused on helping them find the confidence to step away from our cozy nest into the adult world. At 17, our daughter is our legal responsibility for a bit longer. We hold the legal authority to make decisions about her life, on her behalf. At 18, the authority flips. Our son, at 19, could fly away at any time, and our authority over him is limited to house rules, including the right to kick him out, I suppose.
We’ve always encouraged our kids to make decisions, extending as much freedom and personal responsibility as we can safely give.
As a toddler, my son was a runner, who would gleefully bolt into the street with no warning. I made the controversial decision to put him on a child leash so we could safely take walks with his sister in a stroller and our dog. On his leash, he exercised his freedom to literally crawl on the ground to get a close-up look at squirming earthworms, or dart a few feet to pick up a pine cone.
Eventually, I was able to tether him safely, not with a physical leash, but with influence and understanding that helped him build self-control.
The natural parenting step, recognized and supported by general society, is to shepherd our kids through progressively more adult challenges, decisions, and sometimes consequence, giving them a chance to learn through coaching, practice and through their mistakes. They face car problems, learn to communicate with doctors and handle their own fender benders. We are here, we can advise, we can point to resources — and they can learn how to handle life.
The involved professionals — such as the mechanics, medical professionals and even the police — will help shepherd the kids as well.
High-stakes activities often receive additional outside support. Sex education is taught in school. Young drivers are required to practice with a parent, then must pass exams to get a license.
So why don’t we teach our young adults how to drink responsibly? The right to consume alcohol, an activity that is available in nearly any restaurant, is socially celebrated, and has stakes so high that one must wait three full years between becoming a legal adult and legally partaking. That right is magically bequeathed upon turning 21, though most kids who want a drink can probably find a way to get one.
I cannot legally teach them at home. I would have to fly my kids to a country with a lower drinking age for a mom-led Drinking University, so that I could help them understand their limits, how alcohol impairs judgment and coordination, and how to choose lower-alcohol beverages to ensure a long, fun, safe night.
A test to figure out if they are a mean, or sad, or annoying drunk would be helpful. I would want them to be armed with strategies to ensure they did not over-consume. I would want them to be able to stop and recognize signs that they needed to take a break or drink water. And just like reading a booklet does not make one a competent driver, a little practice would need to take place, complete with walking a straight line and trying to say the alphabet backward — not under duress, but to understand impairment.
They would learn self-awareness, warning signs and strategies to avoid falling into the jaws of alcoholism.
Where would I even find the curriculum? Warnings are easy enough to find: Who doesn’t remember high-school videos of shocking crashes caused by drunk driving? But where is the flier that explains the science behind drinking? Is that a thing? Does it exist? And when my kids reach drinking age in a few years, will my ever-thinning tether of influence still be there?
I guess when we reach that time, if they’re still hopping around behind me, I’ll poke another worm down their throat.
But I’ll get that worm from the tequila bottle.
Emily Parnell lives in Overland Park, and can be reached at emily@emilyjparnell.com.