Excuse me? EXCUSE ME?! (Or how even manners can get really, really annoying.) 1
I’m proud to say that I’m teaching my kids their manners.
You know, the basic ones, like ”please and thank you,” “you’re welcome,” “excuse me” (which I will address momentarily), etc.
And my reasons for doing this have little to do with caring about what’s “proper.” I, for one, am pretty much a slug when it comes to all things proper, and I am ten shades of horrible when it comes to etiquette.
Nor do I care at all about teaching my kids to be deferential toward adults. Of course, I want my kids to listen to an adult when s/he has their health, safety, and general well-being in mind (*ahem* like ME, darling children). But I certainly don’t want to instill in my children the idea that they are somehow lesser persons or are less deserving of respect than adults are.
In fact, the reason that I do care about teaching my kids to say their “please and thank yous” and so on is that I want to instill in them a respect for all people–adults and other children alike. And my hope is that this respect and gratitude and kindness and whatnot will translate into some pretty awesome grown-up versions of my kids some day.
Now, before you go thinking, “Oh JAYSUS, is this lady trying to nominate herself for parent-of-the-year or something?!” please think again.
As I was on the phone with my sister yesterday, our children interrupted us a couple of times in the manners-infused way they’ve been taught.
With a polite “excuse me” to introduce their interruption.
On my end, these interruptions were mainly filled with the sorts of questions that are only meant to communicate, “Mommy! You’ve been on the phone for fifteen seconds already!!! Get off the phone! It’s time to talk about apple juice, poop, and dragons again!!!”
You know, questions like, “Um…EXCUSE ME…um…Mommy…um…um…is it sunny out today?” while the kid is standing right next to an open window through which sunlight is pouring and shining upon said child’s little angelic head.
Or, “EXCUSE ME, Mommy, you’re a PEANUT-BUTTER HEAD!!!! Ahahahahahahahaha!!!”
Nonetheless, I heaved a little motherly sigh to my sister and said, “Well, at least we’ve taught them to say ‘excuse me,’ right? At least they have good manners.”
And she said, “Yeah, but I think that the ‘excuse me’s’ even get old and annoying after a while, don’t you think? It’s just not like those other manners words.”
And I paused for a moment. And then I said, ever so quietly, “Yes. They are kind of like tiny little needles piercing your eardrums. Especially when you’re trying to get something done. Can’t we just find some sort of manner that represents the whole, ‘Please sit down and stay silent for a few moments so that Mom can drink her coffee and get her gab on with her sister’? Or at least a, ’Hey! This little box pressed against my ear does not mean that you have to stop playing with your toys and tug at my shirt until I’ve stopped to hear you call me a peanut-butter head!’?”
But instead, I stopped to endure the indignity of patient peanut-butter heads all over the globe. And I confirmed that, yes, it was sunny outside. (And I also inserted a few, “Why don’t you work on this puzzle here for a few minutes while Mommy talks to your aunt! Please! Thank you! YOU’RE WELCOME! EXCUSE ME! POLITENESS EXPLOSION!”)
Because I’m afraid that if I act like a jackass to them, they might internalize some of that jackassery and not grow up to be awesome grown-up versions of themselves some day.
And I please, pretty please, would not like that.
Thank you very much.
