I spent three wonderful weeks on a family trip to Ireland this past August. When, like me, you have two young children with you, a trip like that isn’t exactly a vacation. It’s an adventure.

Travel puts a lot of stress on kids and families. So while there are sights to see, wonders to explore and memories to be made, there are also many hurdles to overcome. One important thing I learned on this trip is that no matter who or what you encounter while traveling, kindness matters.

I’m going to start with the end of the story. We returned home after an eight-hour flight from Dublin to Philadelphia. The time difference was a killer, and there was no food on the plane my kids were willing to eat. My daughter, age 5, sat next to me on that incredibly long, exhausting flight. She’d made it through the plane ride without too much fuss. However, by the time we gathered our baggage in Philly, the stress of the journey and the exhaustion of a three-week trip all came crashing together.

She screamed. She threw a massive tantrum in the terminal. Hungry and exhausted, the one thing my daughter wanted and needed was to hold my hand. I happily offered it despite trying to juggle suitcases. I understood how upset she was and I wasn’t mad at all.

Then a stranger approached us.

This woman marched straight to my daughter and me and announced in a booming voice, “You’re parenting all wrong. You need to beat some sense into that girl.”

WTF.

I didn’t curse. Instead, I told the woman she was wrong and to leave us alone. I was appalled. And angry. This stark, crazy scene felt like a “Welcome back to ‘Murica” moment for us. Because one thing we’d seen in Ireland was a completely different attitude toward children. One I was not accustomed to.

Kindness.

Changes of countries, changes of attitudes

Everywhere we went in Ireland, people bent over backward to be kind and help. It didn’t matter if we were at a playground, in a department store or on a street. People saw that we had kids and treated us with great empathy and compassion.

Two weeks before our encounter with rudeness upon returning home, we had an opposite experience. My 8-year-old son melted down on the streets of Killarney. He’d been refused a lollipop and decided that required staging a tantrum. He lay on the side of the parking lot near some pubs and refused to move. He screamed a bit too. And while my wife and I did our best to handle the situation, strangers came by.

“Is there anything I can do?” said one.

“Oh, I’ve been there,” said another. “So sorry for this, but it’ll get better soon.”

Kindness. Just an attitude of kindness everywhere.

Perhaps it is a cultural thing. Irish laws are different. We quickly noticed every indoor area designed for kids (such as soft play centers) came equipped with a double-locking alarm mechanism to prevent kids from running out or strangers from going in. We noticed every place we went, even the tiniest middle-of-nowhere towns, had handicapped-accessible unisex bathrooms with changing tables — something we once struggled to find in America. Perhaps this mindset toward a “care culture” transcended laws and permeated into the general public?

Kindness comes in many forms

As we explored Ireland, we kept encountering that same kindness again and again.

One restaurant had nothing the kids wanted to eat. The chef marched out, offered to make something just for them, and soon did.

Our kids appeared bored while we checked into one hotel. A worker spotted them and then hurried over with coloring books.

When we tried taking a tour that was sold out, a stranger offered us his tickets on the spot, noting that I had younger kids than he did.

These were not isolated incidents. They were a pattern of kindness and compassion and understanding that children have different needs, everywhere we went in the country.

Back to that moment in Philly. Perhaps that woman was an isolated example. Or perhaps not. I vented about her rudeness later to a friend in New York. My friend said that three times in the past month someone told her to beat her son. This advice came from strangers who didn’t know her or her kid. The expectation to some is that kid needs and adult needs are the same, therefore kid behaviors and adult behaviors are the same.

I’m no longer mad at the rude woman. I feel sorry for her. And I feel sorry for everyone else who thinks it’s appropriate to say such things to parents. In the future, I wish all people, parents and non-parents alike, would treat others with a bit more kindness.

The world could use some more of it right about now.

Photo by Yan Krukau via Pexels.com

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. This one on teaching generosity to your child comes from 2017.

You don’t have to look too far to see a world where people are selfish and lack the socialization to show concern for others. People often put themselves before community interests. It’s disappointing, to say the least, especially since we spend whole chunks of our kids’ childhood trying to give them the opposite values by teaching generosity, kindness and humility.

Preschool and early elementary school are — as author Jerisha Parker Gordon notes in The New York Times about the flip side of teaching her daughter to always be nice — obsessed with sharing, taking turns and learning cooperation. Yet, it’s a skill set in very short supply among adults. What are we to do?

For young kids, this contradiction can be confusing. Not only in the way that the grown-up world actually operates but also in their own social world. There, we teach kids to sometimes sacrifice their own justified preferences and independence for the sake of the group, however, how often do the adults they see and hear do the same? Neither approach is — strictly speaking — correct. It’s not always about the group and it’s not always about the individual. Our culture is filled with the push-pull of that duality on a daily basis.

I’ve noticed lately that I’m extremely proud of my kids when they stand up for themselves. It’s a function of multiple inputs: the rise of helicopter parenting that we’re working against, my own sheepish personality tendencies, and our constant encouragement to socialize. When they step up and assert their own dominance in an appropriate situation, it sends a chill of happiness down my spine because it means we’re raising well-rounded, aware kids.

Generosity lessons vs. life lessons

The dynamic is different for each of my children, though. 

For my son, as a “stereotypical” little boy, it’s often working against a physically active mentality where simply asking him to keep his body and mouth calm and quiet is a major task. Slowing him down to show empathy or let others go first is a major accomplishment.

For my daughter, her struggles to be generous in spirit often come from having her desires thwarted or a lack of inclusion hurting her feelings. As frustrating as it sometimes gets, her ability to speak up for herself is something I don’t want to go away. When someone cuts in line in front of her, she’s completely right to tell them it was her turn first. The trick is getting her to channel this when maybe it’s not so clear-cut that she’s justified.

I suppose, in the big picture, it’s better to create overly generous kids given what we’re working against as a society. But no matter what kind of generosity we hope they take everywhere with them, being equipped for the nasties out there is our duty as parents as well. The ungenerous can neither get them down nor become their obsession. Find like-minded people, lead by example, and ignore the haters. That’s a difficult lesson to learn in the tiny world of school and friends where we wish to be liked by all and win over even the harshest critic.

Generosity coupled with independence is a hard lesson for most adults. I always joke, politically, that people need to go back to kindergarten and learn the basic concepts. At the other end, we have kindergarten students who are working on sharing and equality just fine — but many of these kids need a dose of confidence and skills for working through their complicated feelings about socialization.

The best way we can show them how to navigate the waters is to do it ourselves. Our kids are constantly watching us for examples. Let’s be the kind-but-firm people they need.

A version of Teaching Generosity first appeared on Newfangled Dad. Photo: © oksix/ Adobe Stock.

I want nothing more than for my 5-year-old son to grow up to be a gentleman. Of course, I know he’s watching my every move and learns more from the way I act than from what I say. So to raise a gentleman, I too must be a gentleman in my everyday life.

Here are five of the things I’m encouraging in him.

1. Say “thank you”

When someone does something nice for you, say “thank you.” It’s such a simple thing to do, but it can really mean a lot. Saying “thank you” seems to come naturally to my son. Even on nights I know he doesn’t like what I’ve cooked for dinner he still tells me, “Thank you for making dinner, Dad.” Or at night while we’re reading books he’ll say, “Thanks for reading my story” or “Thank you for helping me learn that word.”

2. Hold doors open for others

A gentleman holds doors open for others, men or women. It’s just the polite thing to do. Yes, it is annoying when it’s the middle of winter and your son insists on standing out in the cold holding the door open for everyone at preschool, but instilling this lesson is worth it in the long run.

3. Use a proper greeting

This is one task kids have a tough time with. I tell my son that when he meets someone for the first time, he should do three things: make eye contact, give a firm handshake and say, “Nice to meet you.” Properly meeting people is important because a limp handshake, looking away from a person and mumbling “hey” is not going to help make friends, make a good impression at a job interview, and most importantly, it’s not going to help him meet girls.

4. Serve others first

This is another task that is not always easy for kids – especially if we’re talking about passing out dessert. But, when my son is in charge of passing out a snack, drinks or dinner he’s been taught to give to his sisters first, then himself last.

5. Be honest

Did you clean your room? Did you punch your sister? Honesty – the most important characteristic can also be the hardest one to teach.

A version of Raise a Gentleman of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Photo: ©Africa Studio / Adobe Stock.

We were deep into a tickling session. My daughter, who is months away from being 3, had fully surrendered. Uncontrollable belly laughs. You know the type. There’s nothing quite like the innocent joy of a kid giggling from a tickled belly.

She was squirming and fighting, pushing my hand from her belly. So I went for her neck. She laughed more. I switched to her armpit. I was laughing. She was laughing. It was a beautiful daddy-daughter moment. After fits of giggles and screams, she said, “Stop, stop, stop.”

Game over.

I know she didn’t mean it. I knew shortly after she would ask me to tickle her again. But for her entire life, anytime I’ve touched her, as a game, or to change her clothes, or any other random reason, any time she says “stop,” I stop. Always.

Lessons in respect, consent from #MeToo movement

I wasn’t as aware of these moments with my first daughter. It was maybe five years ago, a couple years into her life, when the whole #MeToo movement went viral. Like most generic males, I was a bit skeptical. I was more prone to roll my eyes and shrug it off as a typical social media cause. Just a whole lot of noise and not a lot of substance.

Then women I knew started sharing their stories. Women way too close to me. Women who were strong and confident. Women I never imagined could ever be a victim. My typical sluggish and dense male mind began to open and accept reality.

The next time I was tickling my daughter, we had the same moment we always had. She was laughing. She said no. I didn’t stop. She said no again. I didn’t stop. “Daddy!” And I stopped. She looked at me.

“I really wanted you to stop that time,” she said. Flippantly, I replied, “OK, OK. No big deal.”

It took me a moment to realize it was a big deal.

From that moment forward, my policy was no means no. It didn’t matter what it was. If she said “no” in regard to me touching her, I stopped. Always.

When my son was born, I did the same. Boy or girl. Playing or not playing. No means no. The more I listened to their requests, the more it became clear how often I ignored their requests.

Teach ‘no means no‘ early for better people later

My hope is that I’m modeling a couple different things. First, I want it to be clear to my children that adults they love and trust will stop when they say stop. There’s no ambiguity there. I want them to know they have full agency of their bodies. Second, I want my children to see me respecting the boundaries they set for their own bodies. In this way, I hope they will learn they have control to give and deny consent over their bodies. Any adult who doesn’t respect that is an adult they don’t need in their lives. As they get older, I hope they grow to be adults who respect their partners and their peers in the same way.

I’m not suggesting all those fun moments with my kids are nefarious or damaging. I’m certain I’m traumatizing them in many other ways I’ve yet to perceive, but in this small way of respecting the playful “no,” I’m hoping I’m preparing them to respect the serious “No.”

I know the initial reaction to something like this may be a skeptical one. It’s hard to hear things we do in innocence could ever be distorted into something damaging, but our discomfort is no excuse for apathy. If we want a better world, we need to thoughtfully raise better people. I’ve written in the past about how small tweaks to our behavior can have massive benefits, and I believe this is another example.

I feel it important to note that if I tell my kids to go to bed, eat their dinner, or cease assaulting their siblings, and they say “no,” ain’t nobody respecting that “no.” Parents have boundaries, too.

The good news is we still have epic tickle fights, and the disruption to a solid belly tickle session is minor. There’s also another benefit to proactively working to limit our kid’s future emotional baggage: their therapists will have to work a little extra harder to find things to blame us for. There’s value in that.

‘No means no’ photo: ©Prostock-studio / Adobe Stock.

Hey, my teenage sons — and friendly others — you might remember that I’ve been offering advice to you — my boys, not the others — instead of talking about what you’re up to as I did for so many years. Honestly, I thought it would be easy to give advice and drop wisdom bombs. You know what? It ain’t.

Before I get started, though, let me tell you a quick story.

Since right around the time you boys were born, 15 or so years ago, this same guy in the deli at our local grocery store has been slicing our ham and salami and bagging up fried chicken for us. His name is Neil, and he recently retired. I saw him the other day at a convenience store where we were both getting coffee. When he recognized me, he smiled and shook my hand warmly and said, “Hey, it’s Super Nice Guy!”

I was a little take aback, but who doesn’t like a nickname — truth be told, I always thought of him as Neil the Chicken Guy. I smiled and told him I always appreciated what he did for us and mentioned that he always gave me a couple of more pieces of chicken than I ordered. He said he was glad to do it. Neil also said he thought I was the kindest customer he had and that he enjoyed talking baseball with me and watching the boys grow up. I made an impact on this guy just by being nice to him, which is sadly rare way to treat a retail employee.

Just by being nice.

So, I guess that’s my advice for you this time is: Be nice. Good advice, right? Well, yes, I guess so. But, what does that even mean?

As parents, we say “be nice” all the time. I looked the word “nice” up: pleasant: agreeable; satisfactory. Sort of a generic entry there, don’tcha think?

Be good. Be kind. Be safe. Be nice.

I’ve been saying these things to you since before you could talk. So much so, in fact, that it begins to mean nothing. I wonder if they even mean anything to you anymore. We never define exactly what entails “being nice” or any of the other words we so casually offer as you go out the door. Perhaps, they’re only platitudes given up as much for ourselves as for you, as though I’m covering my own ass by telling you these things. You know, “I told him to be nice, officer. It’s out of my hands now.”

I notice, however, that there is a consistency here in all those trite directives I’ve been offering, but not where you’d expect it. It’s that first word, “be.”

Man, that’s a complicated word. But, it is a verb and that helps. I understand verbs.

The word “love,” for instance, is both a verb and a noun. I’ve never been able to pin it down as a noun. It’s one of those that is different to every person and in every case. But, as a verb, it is more definite, more actionable.

Maybe that’s what we mean when we say “be nice” or any of the others. The focus is not necessarily on the amorphous noun but on that little word in front. I am asking you to become nice, occupy nice, live in nice. And, you know what, I see you do it.

I’ve watched you be nice so many times over the years. A hand offered to help a player up on the soccer pitch. An encouraging word given to a scared friend or frustrated brother. An unsolicited hug for me or your mother. I’ve witnessed you being respectful to your teachers. I’ve seen you being kind to your grandparents. I’ve seen you be patient with younger kids, watched you be safe on a playground.

The only way we can see these nouns like love and honor and respect and integrity is when they are acted out in front of us. Listen, boys: it’s easy to see the meanness and baseness and discourtesy of this world we live in. Just turn on your phone or your television. It seems nearly every show or movie depends on some unsavory elements to move forward — some are just devoted to being mean or showing cruelty and disrespect. And the news so often just shows us the bad.

But, and I truly believe this, it is just as easy, if not easier, to see kindness and decency and niceties and so much more.

Integrity flies by in the cab of the firetruck as it screams by our house from the station around the corner. Courage is made real in the intent and decency of medical professionals. Honor is there in the hearts of our teachers. Cashiers and servers, cops and clergy, roofers and landscapers, “chicken guys,” will all respond in kind when offered kindness. I’ve seen it over and over in my life. You will, too, you’ve just got to look for it.

If you don’t mind, I’d like to revise my advice today. “Be nice” is too vague to be helpful. I’d say just “be” might be enough.

Be nice, be kind, be helpful and courageous and wild and playful and hopeful, just and right. Be love, be integrity, be honor and decency and respect.

Let them occupy you. Let them be in you, and I believe they are. I believe they are in all of us. Be the things you want in others, be toward them as you’d have them be to you.

Just be.

Be yourselves.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bill Peebles left a 30-year career in the restaurant business to become a stay-at-home dad to twin boys. He writes a blog, I Hope I Win a Toaster, that makes little sense. He coaches sometimes, volunteers at the schools, plays guitar, and is a damn good homemaker. He believes in hope, dreams, and love … but not computers.

Photo: © Jette Rasmussen / Adobe Stock.

As a stay-at-home father, one of the biggest jobs I have isn’t feeding or changing my twins. It’s making sure that they are kept busy. The busier they are, the happier they are and, in turn, the happier I am.

We do a lot of activities at home, but sometimes I just have to get out of the house. Our Las Vegas Dads Group meets a few times a month at local children’s play places. If you are unfamiliar with these, they are a far cry from the McDonald’s play areas you are probably imagining. One place has little themed rooms such as a pretend beauty salon, a make-believe grocery store and a fire station, complete with costumes and a fire truck wagon. There is another place we visit that is home to a three-story padded jungle gym. It’s equipped with 6 different slides, an obstacle course, and a huge ball pit.

Tuesday was one of these playdates and I was busy that morning doing my Terminator 2 routine. This is where I play with one of my children while constantly scanning the room for the other. When my eyes lock in to where they are, I watch them until they look like they are getting bored and then I leave the one I’m playing with to do a search-and-rescue mission with the other. Then we play together and I begin scanning the room for the first one.

At one point in the morning I was going over letters with Gavin in the “school” room when my cyborg senses started going off. I left a book in my son’s hands and went off in search of his brother. I found him on the trampoline playing with another child who was maybe a year older than him. Standing by the entrance to the area was his mother, shouting commands to him in another language. As I get closer, although I have no idea exactly what she is saying, I can decipher the sign-language. She’s telling him to cover his mouth with his arm as he’s coughing up a lung.

I lock eyes with my boy. My healthy, non-cold infested little half of the double trouble team, who has had only one cold in the past two years. (And it was after a play-date).

“Carter, do you want to go swing?”  I asked him, putting us much excitement into my voice as I possibly could.

A smile lights up on his face, and he quickly left the trampoline and the sick germ-ridden child behind to join Dad on the swings.

This is when I realized that there needs to be a set of rules for parents at these play places. The kids already know what they can and can’t do, so I think that moms and dads should follow a few guidelines as well:

Play Place Etiquette Rule 1: No sick children.

This should be a no-brainer, but I keep seeing children who are far from well in play places so it has to be No. 1 on my list. Most of us work very hard to keep our kids feeling well. The only thing worse than being sick is dealing with a sick child. Not only do you feel bad for them, all stuffed up and miserable, but they are grumpy as hell when they don’t feel good! Please don’t make my children any grumpier than they are — leave your sick kid at home. “But they need exercise!” you tell me. I get it. Bundle them up and have them run around the block.

Play Place Etiquette Rule 2: Pay attention to your kids.

I’ve seen parents who walk in, let their kids run loose, and then open up a book or start playing on their phone. All the shouts of “Mommy, look at me” go ignored and now your brat of a hellion is pulling on my leg for attention. I get it. It’s nice to have a break now and again, but this isn’t the place. Even though I’m all about my kids learning independent play, I ALWAYS know where they are, who they are playing with, and if they have a load of poop in their diapers!

Play Place Etiquette Rule 3: Watch your language.

Around the house my wife has threatened to follow me around with a bar of soap to wash my mouth out. Why? Because I am a great swearer. We’re talking Olympic medal great, but it’s not so great around 2-year-old toddlers, so I’m learning. I DO know I can go without swearing at home, though. How do I know? Because I don’t swear when my sons and I are out. I just don’t. Maybe it’s that I don’t want others to judge me that stops me from spewing profanities. I just want you to know that if you say a bad word and my kids can hear you — I will judge you. I’m probably going to stare at you and give you dirty looks as well just as I’d expect you to do to me.

Play Place Etiquette Rule 4: Leave the food at home.

I know most places let you bring food in. It’s easy to stop in the middle of your book, give little Johnny some Goldfish crackers and a handful of blueberries, and then go on to the next chapter. What you don’t see is that your little angel has made blueberry jam all over the play-place floor by dropping them right where people are walking. Oh, and and he’s offering his yellow cheese crackers to the highest bidder. Why not also bring some peanuts, and see if anyone is allergic? All I’m saying is that just because something is allowed doesn’t mean you should do it. Most places will let you leave for a bite to eat and then let you re-enter without paying a second time.

Play Place Etiquette Rule 5: Be friendly.

Dads, moms, grandparents: We are all on this journey together. It never hurts to say hello to each other. Since starting our dads group and spending time with my children in public, I’ve noticed a great divide between caregivers out there. My wife has been talked down to. I have been ignored. Other dads in our group have been shunned by people at playgroups. We are not the enemy. Our kids are, LOL. One of the greatest things about our group meet-ups is that our dads have kind of taken on a pack mentality. We watch out for each other and our kids. All of us, as parents, should be doing that.

A version of this first appeared on Daddy Double Trouble.

Photo credit: Emily Post’s “Etiquette”, 1956 Edition (Cover) via photopin (license)

Editor’s Note: With the issue of bullying consuming many parents across the country, NYC Dads Group member Dean Keppler has the opposite concern about his son.This is his story. – KMcK.

As preposterous as it might sound to some, I think I might be raising my son to be too kind.

At age 3½, Matt is smart, creative and already has shown signs of an incredible and innovative imagination well beyond his years. From a physical standpoint, he’s always been in the top 97 percentile of height and weight. He’s a giant kid that physically looks well beyond his actual age, but occasionally his mental development isn’t always on par with his enormous size. And that’s perfectly fine and normal.

What bothers me is that he’s not as aggressive as other children his age when playing on the playground. He isn’t forceful toward other kids. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t steal other kids’ toys. Instead, he shows mannerisms far beyond his age. He’s extremely polite.

By no means do I want to raise a bully, but I want him to be able to stand up for himself. If another child takes his toys on the playground, he doesn’t fight back. Most of the time, he’ll just move on and play with something else, showing no interest in being assertive or confrontational. While I’m proud of his maturity, I also don’t want him to be taken advantage of. And as a 300 lb.-plus male myself who played hockey, loves sports, horse racing, and more, I find myself frequently wondering if I am possibly be raising my own son to be a wimp or a pushover.

Although he’s an only young child, Matt generally socializes well when around other children and even adults as shown by his excelling at the learning center my wife and I send him to three days a week. This is a positive. When I was my son’s age, I was very shy so perhaps I’m overly cautious about the importance of social interaction and people skills. I know firsthand that a passive approach throughout life can be detrimental in overall success and I’m convinced it starts at this young age. There’s an equal balance of confidence, integrity, kindness and assertiveness, and I want my son to have it all.

Unfortunately, a wait-and-see approach doesn’t work when handling the daily care of a toddler. Indecisiveness is not an option. You react, adjust and hope for the best. (Do you have any plan/idea of how you will handle this if weak/cowardly is what he is heading for? Have you given thought about how to build the confidence/assertiveness of the balance?)

I hope what I see means that he is simply gentle and kindhearted, rather than weak and cowardly. I think there’s a big difference, but his gentle behavior is one I will continue to worry about as he gets older and the need to stand up for himself grows. Although one’s best laid plans usually have a way of coming back to haunt you when the unexpected happens and derails all good intentions, the aspirations for my son Matt will remain the same. Socialize, socialize and socialize some more. The more activities he’s involved with will only help build his confidence and assertiveness. Hopefully, the skills he learns by constant interaction at this early age will transfer into adulthood. Whether it’s little league baseball, karate, swimming or some other activity that piques his interest, I’ll persuade him to be an energetic participant. I’ll encourage him to speak up, ask questions and build as many friendships as he can along the way.

So is my son too kind? Perhaps he is, but if raising a smart, lovable, caring and overall sweet kid is a bad thing then I’m guilty as charged.

+ + +

Dean Keppler. shown here with his son Matt, has been a stay-at-home dad since April 2010. He’s a licensed real estate agent.

In his past life, he was the director of DRF Press book division for Daily Racing Form and managing editor for the American Kennel Club performance-dog publications. He’s written five books on horse racing and dogs, and published over 50 articles on horse racing, dogs and tropical fish for Forbes, the New York Times and a variety of other publications.