A fellow fusses in the NY TIMES:
I sometimes get calls and emails from friends seeking help in landing internships for their children. I understand what they’re doing; this is part of being a parent. Still, it’s a reminder that America’s current internship system, in which contacts and money matter more than talent, contributes to an economy in which access and opportunity go to the people who already have the most of both.
Don’t worry, Mr. Fussball. Your friends have already crippled their children to the point where their chance of succeeding at anything other than developing a host of addictions is tending towards zero. Their solicitous parents are handing them a handicap, not a privilege. And no, turning your child into a useless layabout is not “part of being a parent.” It’s part of being an insecure jerk who needs to have a loser child in order to feel more accomplished against such a background.
And no, turning your child into a useless layabout is not “part of being a parent.” It’s part of being an insecure jerk who needs to have a loser child in order to feel more accomplished against such a background.
You keep saying this. Who have you seen that does this?
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It’s easier for me to list the people I saw who don’t do this because they are less numerous. 🙁
Examples. Before N broke all contact with his mother, all she’d do would be to tell him he’d be a bad father. Of course, convincing him that he’s a bad father would make her own truly pathetic mothering fade out of view.
Another example. My mother always complained, yelled and screamed that I didn’t help around the house. But whenever I tried, she’d yell and scream that I was doing everything wrong and making things worse. The result was that I didn’t know how to boil water and her own household skills would never be eclipsed.
Another one. My friend E’s mom always tried to help E be more pretty. Of course, the message that E got from these efforts was that she wasn’t pretty enough. As a result, E has no personal life of her own and is playing a maid to her mother at the age of 30.
I have enough of these stories to fill a library. Sadly.
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