that he does not understand, does not know how, cannot do this or that, or to laugh at his attempts. His educators must persuade him that he can understand, and that he can do this thing or that, and must be pleased with his slightest effort.
It seems a trifle to let a child have the run of cake plate or sweet-tray, or to stay up "just another five minutes, Mummy!" to avoid a howl, but these are the trifles that sow acts to reap habits, habits to reap character, and character to fulfil destiny. It is selfish of parents to avoid trouble by not teaching their children habits of obedience, self-restraint, order and unselfishness. Between five and ten is the age of greatest imitation, when habits are most readily contracted.
Come to no decision until hearing the child's wishes or statements, and thinking the matter out; having come to it, be inexorable despite the wiles, whines and wails of a subtle child. Reduce both promises and threats to a minimum, but rigidly fulfil them, for a threat which can be ignored, and a promise unfulfilled, are awful errors in training a child.
Persuade, rather than prohibit or prevent, a child from doing harmful actions. If it wants to touch a hot iron, say clearly it is hot, and will burn, but do not move it. Then, if the child persists, it will touch the iron tentatively, and the small discomfort will teach it that obedience would have been better. Let it learn as far as possible by the hard, but wholesome, road of experience.
Makeshift answers must never be given to a child. Awkward questions require truthful answers, even though these only suggest more "Whys?"
Sentimentality must be nipped promptly in the bud, and an imaginative and humorous view of things encouraged. The child must be taught to keep the passions under control, and to face pain (that great
educator which neurotic natures feel with exaggerated keenness) with fortitude.
Fear must be excluded from a child's experience. "Bogies!" "Ghosts!" "Robbers!" and "Black-men!" if unintroduced, will not naturally be feared. The mental harm a highly strung child does by rearing most fearsome imaginings on small foundations is incalculable, and has led more than one to an asylum.
Try to train the child to go to sleep in the dark, but if it is frightened give it a nightlight. As Guthrie says, the comfort derived from the assurance that Unseen Powers are watching over it, is small compared to that given by a nightlight. He mentions a child who, when told she need not fear the dark because God would be with her, said: "I wish you'd take God away and leave the candle."
If the child wakes terrified, it is stupid and wicked to call upstairs: "Go to sleep!" A child cannot go to sleep in that state, and a wise mother will go up and softly soothe the frightened eyes to sleep.