I'm Not Proud of My Kids

Five Things I Never Say to My Kids, And What I Say Instead: #1!

(This is the final installment! Go here for #2.)

#1 I’m so proud of you.

A while back, I met an older gentleman at the library book drop off. He had hiked it over by foot from the neighboring retirement village. Fair warning: I’m not sure if he was with it or not (nor whether the retirement facility was more of the Memory Care variety or not). Let me be the first to say that this guy didn’t look to have showered in approximately 2.5 years. Nonetheless, he taught me something that day I continue to use. 

We struck up a mini conversation about his grown son, who he explained was doing creative film projects that were gaining public attention. I said, “Wow, that’s really cool. I bet you are so proud.” To which, without a moment’s pause, he replied, “No no. Never proud. Pride is very dangerous. When I become proud it becomes about me. I don’t tell him I’m proud of him. Instead, I say I’m happy for him.” 

You’d laugh at the lengths I’ve gone to unpack this interaction. First of all, you just learned about my beef with the word “happy.” Secondly, I’ve thought a lot about the words “proud” and “happy” and how really, for me, their implications aren’t that separate. I’ve taken turns concluding that that guy was a word-mincing dumb-dumb with believing him to be exquisitely, if not unkemptly, brilliant. 

Somewhere along the way, I think I finally realized the distinction he was making and that it perhaps has more to do with the 

prepositions

in the phraseologies. See for yourself if you sense the difference:

OF/WITH

I’m proud 

of 

you

I’m happy 

with 

you

I’m pleased 

with 

you

I’m thrilled 

with 

you

FOR

I’m proud 

for 

you

I’m happy 

for 

you

I’m pleased 

for 

you

I’m thrilled 

for 

you 

I can say, because of that stranger, that I now use “for” exclusively. 

Listen: I know it feels squabbly. Yet, read on. Because squabble, I shall.

Because I do think our kids can sense when our posture towards them is similar to how we might relate with a circus monkey. Those itty bitty words “of” and “with” do that. They say, “You did it! And since I am your overseer, the one with the peanuts in my pocket, I reap the rewards! Your success = my fortune! Pat on head.” Then, put the monkey back out there to perform some more.  

Kids also sense when our posture towards them is similar to how we might relate with a puppy. The word “for” does that. It says, “You did it! It’s all you, kid! Don’t it feel good? I’m so lucky to share in celebration with you over this. You get all the credit, bud! Give yourself a pat on the back!” Then, parent and puppy tackle each other in a lick-fest.

Do you think I’m nuts (Pea-NUTS, maybe?)?

Maybe it’s silly, and I’m making a big deal out of nothing. But, if there happens to be a hint of truth in the distinction, I’m erring on the side of the puppy-adorer instead of monkey-trainer. 

“For” it is, for me. 

(Just because I gleaned a whole different valuable lesson that I don’t want to keep to myself: This guy, when I hollered my farewell through the van window, “Have a great day!”, corrected me: “No, I’ll 

make

it a great day. 

Having

a great day is a passive activity.” You see what I’m saying with this guy? Luny or brilliant or hobo or another angel? Conceivably, I've decided, he was all four

.)