![]() |
It is harder to get a driver's license than to become a parent.
With a license, you at least get a pamphlet to leaf through before the big test. Not so with parenting. Fifteen years ago, when my son Thomas was born, I was thrust into a role for which I had no training, no experience, no expertise, no real knowledge on the subject, and nowhere to get it. There were plenty of books about getting pregnant, naming your zygote, what to eat during the fifth month, and the value of listening to Mozart during the third trimester. There were more depend-able guides about walking through Europe than there were about taking the right steps to be the kind of dad I wanted to be. And I did not want just to be a good dad: I wanted to be the greatest father that there had ever been. I wanted to be the John Wooden of parents. I wanted my children to be talking their whole lives about how great it was to have me for their dad.
But how do you teach a child to be kind and honest, insightful and inquisitive, athletic, curious, loving and gracious, thoughtful…? How do you give a child a huge heart, make him understand loyalty, and provide him with the courage it takes to be a good sport and a good brother and a good son? Where do you even find the book that teaches you how to teach him?
I started to come up with my own ideas and guidelines for raising Thomas. After many stops and starts, I began to write down the ideas that worked best. Ideas that did not work were plentiful, unfortunately. These included Darkroom Baths, Child Steers While Daddy Drives, and probably the worst idea ever, Downhill Tricycle Drag Races. Through this trial and error, I discovered that by loving my children, I could recover my own lost childhood. The better I was able to make their childhood, the better I started to feel about my own. This became particularly clear to me when Thomas was about to be 3 years, 2 months, and 1 week old, exactly the age I was when my father died, the day everything changed, the day I lost my way and did not even know it.
The basic premise of
Parking Lot Rules is that it's impossible to show a child too much respect, but it's worth the effort to try. There is no one way to raise children. It requires flexibility and insight, and wisdom not yet gained, and the awareness of when to say just the right thing and when to say absolutely nothing. My hope is that parents will find in these rules a range of options to choose from when it comes to their most precious creations—their children—and the most gratifying experience they will ever know: parenting those children.
1 The Parking Lot Rules
In a world inhabited by cars the size of small houses, the parking lot can be an incredibly dangerous place. The drivers of these SUVs are in another world: watching their own children, talking on their cell phones, or listening to the radio. The last thing they are looking for is your brood. Teach your children that they need to be right next to you whenever you are in a parking lot. There is to be no trailing behind and no racing ahead. The moment you near a parking lot, call out "Parking lot rules," and your children will know that they absolutely must be by your side. This rule can also apply to any time you perceive a danger that your children have missed: perhaps raised voices or the sound of broken glass or a stranger acting erratically. It beats yelling, "Look out for the crazy guy!"
2 The Bon Jovi Rule (No Hands to the Face)
Richie Sambora is the guitarist for Bon Jovi as well as a devoted dad to his daughter, Ava. He once said the band's ability to stay healthy on the road is made possible by one rule: No hands to the face. Rock 'n' roll stars shake so many hands and encounter so many germs while touring—greeting fans backstage, signing autographs, and attending afterparties. You will almost never see a successful rock 'n' roll superstar sticking his finger in his eye if he has an itch. Instead, he will use a sleeve, a cuff, a shirttail, a tissue, or whatever else is available. Let your children learn how to stay healthy from one of the greatest rock bands in the world. Teach your children the Bon Jovi rule: No hands to the face.