Raising Good Humans: I’d Rather Make a Scene Than Raise a Spoiled Brat

I’d rather make a scene than raise a spoiled brat. 

I’d rather my daughter be screaming and crying, fists pounding on the floor, people staring with disbelief in their eyes-- than for her to get her way by acting like that. 

I mean a performance like that deserves a crowd--maybe an Oscar nominee--so I don’t blame anyone for looking at the train wreck in front of them in utter disbelief.  

I mean, when my daughter is a brat, she can be a real crowd-pleaser too, with her performance of a lifetime. She demands the stares. The eye-rolls. The thank-goodness-that-isn’t-my-child whispers and glances. 

Yes, it used to embarrass me. My cheeks would turn beat red, and I'd be frozen in my spot, head-spinning—how Is this my daughter? I’m the worst mom. I’d try to get her off the floor with any bribe. Then---

things changed. 

Now, I couldn’t care less what it looks like. 

Because my priorities shifted way beyond caring what you think, about my child, or me as a mother, in a snapshot of time. 

I have loftier goals. 

I want to raise good humans. 

I want to raise kids that know right from wrong. 

I want to raise kids that include everyone. 

I want to raise kids that know the power of their words and how damaging they can be. 

I don’t want to raise spoiled brats. 

I see the morals of some people, and it terrifies me. We're a society too afraid of what people think, and I don’t think that’s helpful when the goal is to raise good humans no matter what. 

I’ll always love my kids, but I won’t accept bad, especially malicious and disrespectful behavior. 

So I’ll swallow my pride when going out, and do what I have to do.  

Because I’d rather make a scene than raise a spoiled brat.