Let me say this about that.

Raising kids is hard work.  That is precisely why I never had any.  But apparently that hasn’t stopped the rest of America.  For the 40 year old and younger generations, the decision to have kids is done with the same forethought as buying a pair of St. Bernards as pets to share their one-bedroom apartment.

But as poorly prepared to bring kids into the world as today’s parents are, their ability to raise them to maturity is nothing short of pathetic.  Today’s parents have developed a sort of perverted philosophy of raising children based on life as it might be lived in Disneyland.  In this fairytale world, every kid is a winner – every kid is “special” – every kid is the best – every kid is a success – every kid is, in short, a little angel who can do no wrong.  Kids are never punished for wrong doing - they are given “time-outs”. 

If you don’t believe today’s kids are being raised in a sugar-coated, “everything is beautiful” world,  go to a…    kids’ soccer game sometime.

I was forced to go to a kids’ soccer game once.  There were four teams playing.  Keeping score was forbidden by the parents, as keeping score might do some permanent emotional damage to the losing team of “little angels”.  After the games were over, everyone could see that one team was head-and-shoulders better than the other three.  One was so bad it was obvious their parents were cousins, and the remaining two teams were both equally average.  There was an elaborate awards ceramony afterward and the team of klutzy little retards got trophies for winning the “Sportsmanship Award”.  The best team got trophies for “Excellence”,  as being declared “winners” would imply that there was a “loser”.  The two average teams in the middle were given trophies for “Achievement”, even though what was ‘achieved’ was mediocrity.  Every kid got a trophy – every kid was a “winner”.

Sadly, when these soccer kids enter the real world, they will be about as well prepared as a Beverly Hills chihuahua at Michael Vick’s house.

Parenting was different when I was a kid.  In those days, if you survived childhood, adulthood didn’t present that much of a challenge.  Let me give you an example:

My younger brother and I always liked to visit my Dad’s sister and her family.  She had three boys about our age and we would spend the days chasing each other through the woods behind their house.  There was also a creek that ran through their property that formed a small swimming hole and was the site of many family picnics.  One day my cousins, brother, Dad and uncle were at the swimming hole when my Dad looked at me and made the following announcement:

Shambo’s Dad:  “Ya know, kid.  You’re eight years old now and you still don’t know how to swim.  Why is that, son?”

Shambo:  “Cause we live in the mountains Dad.”

Shambo’s Dad:  “Hell, that’s no excuse.  It’s high time you learned.”

And with that, he grabbed me by the back of my shirt and the seat of my pants and threw me into the water - where I promptly sank like shares of Enron stock.  For the next five minutes, I learned a great many things.  Regrettably, none of them was how-to-swim.  I did learn that it is not a good idea to try to swim with a pair of sneakers full of water.  I also learned that being in water ten feet deep when you are 4 feet, 10 inches tall presents a challenge to one of my favorite pastimes – breathing.

Shambo’s Uncle:  “Damn John, I think the little bastard’s gonna drown.”

Shambo’s Dad:  “Nah.  The kid’s pretty smart.  He’ll figure it out.”

Shambo’s Uncle:  “Did ya see the look on his face as he was flying through the air?  Pretty funny, huh?”

That’s how I learned most things as a kid ……..  slam – bash – cut – bleed – stomp – break – slash – bump – and puke.  By the time I finished college, I had broken fourteen bones.  But it was no big deal, because I was prepared for a hard world by hard parents.  I feel for today’s kids spending their childhood being taught they are “special” when they should be taught how to be a “surviver”.  In this life, you can learn how to deal with difficulty when you are ten – or you can learn when you’re thirty – but you ARE going to learn.

And, that’s all I have to say about that.

Shambo