DON'T GET SHOCKED
I believe that many mothers make the sad mistake of showing the child that they are shocked by trivial sayings and trifling experiences of their little people. If we could only get it into our heads for once and for all that our children are born into this world veritable little thieves and falsifiers, as well as adventurers and explorers, we would then cease being so shocked and outraged by their frank statements of what they have heard or have done. Let the mother listen to all these things with calmness, while she seeks to direct the child's mind in pure and elevated channels—to help him upward by imparting "precept upon precept; here a little and there a little."
Children will come in with stories that at first thought do greatly shock the parent; but under no circumstances should the boy or girl discover that the parent is shocked, for if he does he will not likely come again with another such "shocking" difficulty. One mother told me that her seven-year-old boy, beginning third grade, came into her bedroom one morning saying: "Mother, I am just busting to say something," and this mother very wisely said, "Well, say it; certainly I don't want you to burst," and she told me that this boy whispered to her three of the filthiest words that he could possibly have heard on the streets. In relating this experience to me she said: "Do you know, doctor, that I really did not know what to think at first, but I remembered that you had taught me never to be shocked, and so I looked up and asked: "Do you feel better?" whereupon he breathed a big sigh and exclaimed: "What a relief! I have just been busting to say that to somebody." Mother, to whom would you rather he would say these things? to you, or to some little girl out on the street, or to some older boy? Think what trouble and possible mischief were avoided by whispering into the sympathetic ear of mother. This wise mother turned to that little boy and said: "Son, that ear is always waiting for just such things and whenever you feel like saying something—like getting it off your mind—you just come to me;" and he came repeatedly. One time he came in saying: "I don't know whether you want me to play with Harold or not; he does some of those things you told me about the other day." And the mother thoughtfully and wisely looked up and said: "Did he do it in front of his mother? Why of course he didn't. Did he ask you to go into the bedroom or bathroom and lock the door?" and the little fellow quickly answered: "Why sure he did; how did you guess it?" and added "now I suppose you are not going to let me play with him any more," and this wise mother, knowing that if she denied him this privilege that it would quite likely be frequently sought, said: "Why, certainly play with Harold in the open, but whenever he suggests secrecy—" she did not have time to finish the sentence, the boy said: "I am wise; whenever he gets to doing that 'funny business' I'll skiddoo." The confidence between that mother and son, to my mind, was wonderfully sublime—all the while practical and helpful in his daily training.