I Met Toohey's Intellectual Daughter Today
I've had quite a day. My father invited several of his friends over, and they brought their grandchild. Usually, I am a kid person; I like their curiosity and their playfulness. I didn't think until today that I would truly loathe a 6-year-old child.
She is a spoiled brat. She has been raised with an iPhone, a iPad, a Leapfrogger, and everything she wants on a silver platter. I was assigned to the unfortunate task of entertaining her while the adults talked.
First, I invited her to look in my room, in order to get her out of the living room. In the hallway, she saw my collection of stuffed animals (which I don't touch, but still love dearly) and begged to have some of them. I said no, over and over, and finally got her into my room, where she saw my large collection of medals hanging on the walls. She gasped and said, "Wow, you won all of that!" I was starting to forgive her because she admired achievement when she asked, "Can I have one?" I was pissed. I looked her in the eye and asked:
"What did you deserve to get a medal?"
She paused for a second, then said:
"I never win ANYTHING!"
Isn't it crazy that this spoiled little girl thought that was an adequate explanation? It's even crazier that in a mere 24 years, this girl could become a senator and start advocating for the newest plan of ultimate equality: "achievement redistribution."
After that, she begged to have some of my other toys; I surrendered two model cats, a unicorn, and a jolly rancher in order to shut her up. I felt guilty for my toys, like I had betrayed them by indulging her selfishness. It was hardly 10 minutes later that she lost interest in them (although she revived later in order to play with me for two. straight. hours). I wonder how long my beloved toys will stay intact? A week, maybe? She doesn't appreciate the kind of emotional investment I put into my toys as a kid. She didn't even thank me.
Although that was the worst part, we went downstairs and started drawing pictures. She was bossy and entitled. She kept saying things like, "We're having fun, right?" "I'm so glad you're my friend!" "Aren't you having fun?" A phrase of Ayn Rand's kept popping into my mind: sanction of the victim. I kept trying to evade the questions, hoping not to give any verbal sanction, although I felt guilty that my actions gave her a green light. All the while we were coloring she kept trying to go back up to my room; hoping to cheat me of some more of my toys, I'm sure. After I told her, frankly, nothing would make me give up more of my possessions, she said:
"How about a hundred dollars?"
I asked her what on earth a little girl like her needed a hundred dollars for. She explained that she bought things for her friends at the school store. It didn't surprise me at all that she had no respect for her parent's money, and that she thought I could be bought. I told her that some things were priceless.
After she left, I went upstairs and practiced my violin for an hour. I drilled some scales, etudes, Mozart passages, all in order to forget about it and swallow the guilt and helpless rage for my toys and my time. I was angry that she took so much of my time away, time I'll never get back and could have invested into productive endeavors. I had so much to do today; my favorite teacher's birthday is today; I was going to make a cake to show him how much I appreciate his teaching. I still need to write program notes and study for a test. Most of all, however, I was given The Romantic Manifesto as a belated birthday gift. I was dying to read it all of today.
She was a nightmare and I still feel horrible, but right then I was appreciative of the upbringing my parents gave me. I was taught the true meaning of money. I was taught to be polite and to value honest interactions with other people, and not electronics. Most of all, I was taught the value of achievement and hard work.
If you made it to the end of this, congratulations! I apologize for writing so much. To all grandparents and future grandparents: Although you may have limited time with your grandchild, do your best to prevent them from turning into this hellish little girl. Parents: You are the ones with control. Teach your children your values. I pity this girl, because she wasn't taught any better. Don't let the public schools spoil your precious child's ideology and mind. Take their learning into your own hands and teach them in Ayn Rand's footsteps.
She is a spoiled brat. She has been raised with an iPhone, a iPad, a Leapfrogger, and everything she wants on a silver platter. I was assigned to the unfortunate task of entertaining her while the adults talked.
First, I invited her to look in my room, in order to get her out of the living room. In the hallway, she saw my collection of stuffed animals (which I don't touch, but still love dearly) and begged to have some of them. I said no, over and over, and finally got her into my room, where she saw my large collection of medals hanging on the walls. She gasped and said, "Wow, you won all of that!" I was starting to forgive her because she admired achievement when she asked, "Can I have one?" I was pissed. I looked her in the eye and asked:
"What did you deserve to get a medal?"
She paused for a second, then said:
"I never win ANYTHING!"
Isn't it crazy that this spoiled little girl thought that was an adequate explanation? It's even crazier that in a mere 24 years, this girl could become a senator and start advocating for the newest plan of ultimate equality: "achievement redistribution."
After that, she begged to have some of my other toys; I surrendered two model cats, a unicorn, and a jolly rancher in order to shut her up. I felt guilty for my toys, like I had betrayed them by indulging her selfishness. It was hardly 10 minutes later that she lost interest in them (although she revived later in order to play with me for two. straight. hours). I wonder how long my beloved toys will stay intact? A week, maybe? She doesn't appreciate the kind of emotional investment I put into my toys as a kid. She didn't even thank me.
Although that was the worst part, we went downstairs and started drawing pictures. She was bossy and entitled. She kept saying things like, "We're having fun, right?" "I'm so glad you're my friend!" "Aren't you having fun?" A phrase of Ayn Rand's kept popping into my mind: sanction of the victim. I kept trying to evade the questions, hoping not to give any verbal sanction, although I felt guilty that my actions gave her a green light. All the while we were coloring she kept trying to go back up to my room; hoping to cheat me of some more of my toys, I'm sure. After I told her, frankly, nothing would make me give up more of my possessions, she said:
"How about a hundred dollars?"
I asked her what on earth a little girl like her needed a hundred dollars for. She explained that she bought things for her friends at the school store. It didn't surprise me at all that she had no respect for her parent's money, and that she thought I could be bought. I told her that some things were priceless.
After she left, I went upstairs and practiced my violin for an hour. I drilled some scales, etudes, Mozart passages, all in order to forget about it and swallow the guilt and helpless rage for my toys and my time. I was angry that she took so much of my time away, time I'll never get back and could have invested into productive endeavors. I had so much to do today; my favorite teacher's birthday is today; I was going to make a cake to show him how much I appreciate his teaching. I still need to write program notes and study for a test. Most of all, however, I was given The Romantic Manifesto as a belated birthday gift. I was dying to read it all of today.
She was a nightmare and I still feel horrible, but right then I was appreciative of the upbringing my parents gave me. I was taught the true meaning of money. I was taught to be polite and to value honest interactions with other people, and not electronics. Most of all, I was taught the value of achievement and hard work.
If you made it to the end of this, congratulations! I apologize for writing so much. To all grandparents and future grandparents: Although you may have limited time with your grandchild, do your best to prevent them from turning into this hellish little girl. Parents: You are the ones with control. Teach your children your values. I pity this girl, because she wasn't taught any better. Don't let the public schools spoil your precious child's ideology and mind. Take their learning into your own hands and teach them in Ayn Rand's footsteps.
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I can tell already that you are every parent's dream.
If I have a kid, I will do my best not to let him/her grow up like that.
My experiences with children are generally good; my largest exposure is to 6 Catholic kids not raised with electronics. They're polite, imaginative, curious, and usually don't throw tantrums.
One of my premises is that all individuals should be capable of making their own choices; I didn't mean that you can force them, nor that you should (it leads to resentment).
I like how you compared parenting to breaking in a horse. I may use that.
One of my daughters is a Dagny in training. The other daughter agrees with my wife and I on many things, but she behaves like a spoiled brat once in a while. Parenting is like breaking in a horse that has never been ridden before. As growing children are capable of making more and more self-sustaining, self-generated actions (see Life in the Ayn Rand lexicon), parental control must necessarily decrease.
I must say, however, that I dislike many in this generation of children. Spoiled brats are the norm, not the exception.
Your story is not unique. For good and bad reasons we often get assigned to tasks. Sometimes the reward is just the pleasure of recognition. There will be times when it does not work. Maybe with intellectual skills this can be anticipated, otherwise experience teaches us.
At the end of your story you give correct advice to parents and grandparents, but what about you?
Are you ready for the next time?
Consider, be open to saying -no. Do not make excuses that can be challenged, be ready to insist that you are in charge of your time. As well, you can change your mind, if the task is unpleasant, dropout, hand the child back.
If you do not straighten out a spoiled brat there is no need to feel guilt, you correctly felt compassion, but you have no responsibility.
It may have happened in the past, if not it will happen that you will have experiences with children that are delightful and productive to both. This particular event emphasizes those joys.
This passive voice sentence stood out to me the most. Constantly dealing with wrong-headed thinking it is part of taking care of a 6 year old. It's an important job, one that many people find mind-numbing. I see people thoughtlessly "assign" it to family members, usually females, or hire people at minimum wage or less to do the job.
It's not this six-year-old's fault. She needs constant attention and correction to understand how reality works. She probably won't get it from those electronic babysitting devices that we have kids now or from whatever random females who get roped into doing it.
I had a phone call just the other night from the daughter of friends. She had gone to a party and was stressed or 'anxious' as they put it these days. Should I stay even though it isn't enjoyable, should I go home - wondering who was with the youngest one if anyone should I walk, take a cab, or a bus (all available choices)?
By the third call I said time to make an adult decision. It ended uip she chose stay at the party first, go home second, walk so she had money for shopping as number three.
Good news is the 'anxious' moment had disappeared. whatever that meant.
Stick to it....your doing fine...and setting the example is the only way to 'give back.'