How to Humiliate Your Children for Fun and Payback

Shortly after this stage, children stop being angelic. Be prepared.

When I think about my children, I get all serious. My daughters were just the sweetest babies ever cut out by Cesarean. There was a time when I’d lose them momentarily in the mall or some other highly populated place but then find them before a lurking child molester could snatch them, and I’d experience the same combination of soul-searing terror/consummate relief as I did the other morning when I freaked out because I discovered I was a vampire and then realized I was holding my hand mirror backwards.

There was a time when I imagined I was the inimitable mother who’d cultivated the most mature, respectful parent-child relationship since Andy Taylor and Opie. There was a time when my daughters adored me, missed me when we were apart, tackled me like linebackers when we reunited.

But then came the inevitable time they hated me because they were teenagers, and I got all nostalgic. I imagined them sleeping—because that’s the only time teenagers are truly worthy of love—and a big lump formed in my throat. I wanted to scoop them up in my arms and hug them to my bosoms the way I used to when they were small enough to scoop up in my arms and hug them to my bosoms. Back when they didn’t talk yet and say things like, “I hate you.” But, unfortunately, children grow. (Unless you don’t feed them.) And they get so surly. It’s only fair that parents should have an arsenal of tactics available to even the emotional playing field.

One of the ways I humiliate my children in public is to point towards a pocket in my ginormous, embarrassing purse with my extended middle finger the way my grandmother used to because she didn’t know she was flipping the bird, and holler, “One of y’all hand me another battery, please. My hearing aid just died.” God, the kids hate that.

Another killer way I mortify my kids is to wear clothes that come from Wal-Mart, and then admit it loudly in front of their friends. I'll say something like, “Did you know that everything I have on—including my underwear, which was in a six-pack for five bucks—came from that new Super Wal-Mart they just built four miles from the old Wal-Mart?”

Here are some things you can try. Teenagers love it when you wear black nylon dress socks with sandals and shorts. So do that a lot. Especially if they demand that you take them to the mall. And then when you get there, and your children try to speed up to get away from you and pretend that they don’t know you, run after them, dragging one of your legs and shouting, “Come back! The doctors said not to leave me alone!” This is especially effective if you slur and drool.

By far the best way to knock your uppity kids back down a few notches is to have a sex life or the pretense of one. Children truly prefer to believe that they were delivered by the Vlasic pickle stork or maybe UPS. They get completely grossed out by the thought of their parents kissing or giggling conspiratorially. So. Wait until all their teenaged guests have arrived for a big birthday party, and then nudge your spouse playfully in the ribs and stage whisper, “Let’s head back to the bedroom and leave these folks alone, shall we?” Grabbing a chilled bottle of wine and a couple of glasses on the way out will make your children even more nauseated! Looking to disgrace your teenagers permanently? Banging the headboard rhythmically against the wall while producing loud farm animal sounds will do the trick.

You know, while we’re on the subject of parenting tips, I’ve noticed that parents of emotionally disturbed children really, really like it when—in the middle of their offspring’s atomic tantrum—other adults step forward and offer helpful suggestions for exactly how they would handle the situation if their son or daughter behaved that way in public. This kind of unsolicited advice is always welcome and never makes a mentally ill child’s parent want to poke out the consultant’s eyes with a pair of safety scissors.

Anyway. If you’re like me and every move you’ve made since your children were born has been carefully calculated with their best interests in mind, yet they still think your whole reason for existing is to ruin their lives, don’t despair. Next time one of your youngsters forgets that life is not a Disney Channel sitcom where all the adults are dumb fucks and the children are in charge, I’m sure you can embellish one of my kid-correcting examples to remind your darlings who’s the boss. Remember: It’s best to start early and to be relentless. Your kids’ll thank you for the inspiration one day when they have monsters of their own.