My Kids are Spoiled Brat's, and It's Totally My Fault

In which a caring but concerned dad ‘fesses up to messing up.

Friends & Foes

The only thing tougher than parenting is parenting well. And the first rule of being a good parent is not to be friends with your kids.

That’s because children need strong, consistent, and loving support from an adult. They can find friends elsewhere among their peers.

Instead, good parents provide their kids with security, guidance, and discipline — in other words, parenting and not friendship.

One sign of being more of a friend than a parent is when your kids become spoiled brats. They are taking advantage of you.

I’m obviously being taken advantage of, because my kids are spoiled brats. It’s my fault, because I treat them like my friends.

I certainly know better, but do I actually want to do better? How much parenting is too much parenting — or not enough?

Perhaps the toughest decision facing a parent is where to draw the line: actively tell our kids what to do, or passively let them figure it out.

When are we helping our kids discover their best qualities, and when are we enabling their worst habits? How much is enough, and what’s too much?

Somewhere between Tiger Mom and BFF Dad is a parental balance where kids feel loved and supported, but aren’t turned into selfish mini-me’s.

Since I’ve got few answers and seem to be failing at figuring this out, blogging helps. If nothing else, you might relate and perhaps offer some advice…

Breeding Brats

I have two boys, sixteen and twelve. They complement each other perfectly and manipulate me in their own ways. I fall for it every time.

The older, Vincent, is introverted. He lives inside his own head, has few friends and likes it that way. Happiness is playing video games.

Whenever anything gets in the way of his favorite and only pastime, the spoiled brat leaps out: He rages explosively and simmers in disrespect.

Although he’s reminded every day that gaming is a privilege and not a right, Vincent oozes entitlement, expressed as condescension and arrogance.

The younger, Nicholas, is extroverted. He cares what other people think, is social, does sports, has conversations — and loves video games.

Whenever anything gets in the way of playing video games, the spoiled brat leaps out, too, but differently: He becomes flippant and argumentative.

More socially aware than his older brother, Nick lays the BS on really thick. He comes up with endless reasons gaming overrides reality.

Together they can be a real pain the ass. Their negative energies feed off each other, both of them maniacally fixated on only themselves.

Although the two boys fight constantly with each other, they somehow agree on a unified strategy designed to get what they want from their dad.

Not surprisingly, what they want is minimal effort and maximum fun. They follow a path of least resistance for greatest gain, using me to get it.

Sucker Punch

That makes me both obstacle and ally. I get in the way by making demands; I help by acquiescing to— and often participating in — their hedonism.

Since I’m gullible for many of the things they enjoy, their proven technique is to sneakily transform my demands into their desires.

For example, I insist they stop eating junk food, reduce screen time, do their homework, and get enough sleep. Then the weekend rolls around.

They in turn suggest we go to the diner and watch an action movie. On a roll, we return home and binge-play video games late into the night.

See what they did there? 1) Identify dad’s favorite things; 2) entice him by suggesting them; and 3) indulge until he’s forgotten his original demands.

And see what I did there? 1) Start with a parental demand; 2) willfully get distracted; and 3) wind up having a friend-day with my kids.

The result? You guessed it, shameless consumption of unhealthy food, excessive screen time, zero homework done, and sleep deprivation.

The problem here isn’t that my kids high-five after these shenanigans — it’s that I see exactly what’s going on here, only to rinse and repeat.

Simple truth is I like being their buddies. I love them and want them to be happy. We enjoy doing many of the same things, and do them.

But they’re spoiled brats, exacting a high price to be paid for their behavior. The opportunity costs are enormous, and we all take the hit.

The Home Front

They not only get on my nerves, but everyone else’s — especially my wife. Add her into the mix as recent stepmom and you see where this is all going.

A year ago we married, moved in. She’s also got two boys, twenty-one and seventeen, making her outnumbered but not overpowered. She’s tough!

Video games drive her totally nuts. Whereas we see them as mindless but captivating entertainment, she focuses on their destructive qualities.

She cites ongoing research substantiating their addictive nature and its consequences. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the connections.

Most obviously video game time is directly proportional to spoiled brat behaviors. The more my boys play, the more ill-tempered they become.

Games fire them up, an itch they can never scratch. If they win they want to win better; if they lose they’re upset and try again until they win, and so on.

Designers deliberately build these response mechanisms into their games, knowing full well that addicts always make the best customers.

The circularity creates an endless loop of tension, release, tension, and release… And like any addiction, they progressively build tolerance.

More and more isn’t enough until too much leads to burn out — for my spoiled brats, their stepmom, and me. Everyone ends up yelling at everyone else.

My kids are angry they can’t indulge their addiction; my wife is angry no one listens to her recommendations for restraint; and I’m left holding the bag.

Ripening the Brats

So rules have been set: No gaming during the school week. But you know they’re gaming from their phones, and weekends remain a free-for-all.

The worst isn’t the ongoing discord, but the halo effect of spoiled brats who feel they have every right to get what they want, when they want it.

Such an attitude expresses itself as chaos at the dinner table, and irritability throughout our often stressful times together as a family.

And the overall result is exactly what you’d expect: frustration with the status quo, and confusion around boundaries. Who’s good cop, who’s bad?

Maybe the first step is understanding video games are a symptom, and not the cause, which is: “Hi! I’m Mookie, and I’m best friends with my kids…”

Most parents of Millennials do the same thing, resulting in — you guessed it, Millennials — and their alarmingly obnoxious sense of entitlement.

To stop the madness I need to enforce these rules. Not become a drill sergeant jerk (like my own father), but at least mean what I say, and say what I mean.

As parents we need to enable our kids, not become their enablers. The pendulum swings, generation-to-generation. Time to get a grip.

And since video games are simply an expression of the deeper challenges lurking beneath, I need to expand our rules and stick to them.

Every family needs moderation, respect, and communication to flourish. I don’t want to grow up. Maybe I’m finally realizing that I have no choice?