…yeah, but…
We all know that kids are an imperfect and often unpleasantly distorted echo of ourselves. My youngest has started echoing a tendency I seem to have of contradicting people. I used to accuse him of being a little contrarian, but now I see he's just a chip off the old block.It seems like every time I ask him to do something, he begins his sentence "yeah, but..." and explains to me why he can't do what I'm asking, doesn't want to do what I'm asking, etc. I used to think it really annoying and rude. As with all such behaviors, I ask "where did he learn that?" with the assumption that he learned it at home. If I do one thing right as a parent, I accept full responsibility when I inadvertently teach my kids bad things. 
I started listening to my own speech. So did my wife. I discovered that I begin sentences like this all the time. Someone says something to me, and my response is "yeah, but..." This habit is a half-baked attempt to accept someone's point of view while expressing my own. It actually serves to succinctly dismiss their point of view and substitute my own. The more I think about it, the more disappointed I am in myself for it. I'm going to have to start catching myself and thinking more before dismissing someone else's opinion.
December 5th, 2008 - 16:30
If all parents took such detailed interest in their children’s development, enough to do self-reflection, the world would be a much better place.
I had a similar insight when it came to group competitiveness. In particular, some friends are more fun to play the Wii with than others.
I noticed that in the environments that turn into all-night Wii parties that were talked about for days afterward, the common factor is that everyone was shouting *for* the current players, regardless if that person just beat them or was doing a horrible job.
Rather than discouraging players, which ends the event quickly from people having enough and going home, performance across the board improves, secret tips are shared, and everyone’s game play improves.
There are still clear winners, but there’s no gloating, no whining, and no hard feelings. This isn’t a special-olympic “we’re all winners” load of fluff, as there are clear winners and losers. But the winners are gracious, and the losers congratulatory and willing to go another round.
We adopted that philosophy to our own game nights as well as when we let the children play. No more tears, and no more frustration outbursts. Not too surprisingly, this causes the children to be supportive of newbies and want include them. In stead of “it’s my turn,” sharing became a common theme.
As such, I found that universally there appears to be greater joy in seeing the reward of teaching someone to get better, than to feast on the brief victory of grinding them into the dirt.
Which, if you think about it, it makes sense. I know I’d rather hear, “Dude, that was pretty respectful, why don’t you try it again, remember to use your nun chuck,” than the alternative “Ha! I win!”