“I don’t know,” I said.
“I had four children,” Joanne said, smiling, “And they are all out of the house now. David is in medical school, but the others are… I am sorry, I wasn’t trying to rub anything in,” Joanne said, she must’ve noticed the face I hadn’t even realized I was making. I shrugged.
“It’s fine, I am happy for your family’s success,” I said, trying not to sound too bland.
“My only point is that I know a lot about raising children. And the struggles that come with adolescence. I just think you might need some… fresh ideas.” I thought for a minute. What was the harm in asking? I was absolutely out of plans and too burned out to even try to think of more.
“I can use anything that you have. What, exactly, did you have in mind?”
“Have you tried anything to change his behavior?” Joanne asked carefully.
“Like what?” I asked, thinking of all of the fun suggestions for a life outside the house I had given, and, alternatively, all the chores I had assigned. I had signed him up for adult sports leagues, filled out job applications (and got him interviews). I had brought home hundreds of continuing education applications and e-mailed him dozens of toys and electronics that he could buy if he just got a job. All for nothing.
“I mean how did you treat him when he really was a child? If he didn’t want to eat dinner, did you just give him a cookie? No, you took action to control his behavior. I don’t think anything changed. You said yourself, he is still a child. And you’re his mother,” Joanne replied.
“What would I do? Take away his video games? Ground him? Isn’t that just turning him more into a child than he already is? I mean how can I say ‘be a man or I will take away your toys.’? I want to punish him. I am angry will him. But it will just make things worse.”
“My youngest, David, he never responded to that sort of stuff anyway. If I punished him, it just made him dig his heels in harder,” Joanne said thoughtfully.
“The medical student?” I asked and Joanne smiled proudly.
“If I took away his video games, he just read. If I took away his books, he would stare at the ceiling. Not complaint. Just do without. Still, I figured out how to get him to do his homework.”
“How?” I asked, suddenly rapt. This was, in some ways, the crux of my problem. And Joanne claimed to have the answer. I was desperate. I’d do anything she advised.
“I was making a mistake. Because all my older kids, they responded to the stick. You want them to do something. You smack them,” She looked at me eyebrows raised, “Not literally. But you give a punishment and they change behavior to avoid it. David didn’t think that way. He just adapted to bad things. But, one night, he was sitting in his room with no TV, not books, staring at the ceiling. Happy as can be. And, on a whim, I said, ‘David, would you like some of the coffee cake I made for your father?’ And he looked up and he smiled and nodded. And I said, ‘then you just need to do five math problems in your homework. And I will go down and cut it.’ And I came back, and five problems were done. And right. He ate his cake. And I learned something new.”
“Yes…” I said.
“David responds to carrots, not sticks. I found the lever the boy needed, and I applied it. And now he is in medical school,” Joanne said proudly. I felt a little deflated. Hardly some sort of ninja secret.
“I have tried that,” I said sadly, “I have bought video games and card games and… hell, I offered to buy a car so he could get a job. He doesn’t care.” I lifted my hands and then dropped them onto the table.
“My son, he was easy. A little boy who wanted cake. But you’re son is tougher. I understand that. But giving video games just reinforces the fact that he is a child. And offering to get him something so he can get a job… the reward you’re offering is a job, not a car.”
“What’re you saying?” I asked, feeling a bit like I was being called dumb. But I was dumb. This was a problem I couldn’t fix.
“You have to ask yourself what your end goal is, and think about the carrot you give to encourage that result,” Joanne said slowly. I stared at her. Shrugged.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said dropping my head. Joanne reached forward, placed her hand on my shoulder.
“You want your boy to be an adult. So you have to make being an adult the carrot. Make him want to be an adult by making adulthood the reward,” Joanne said. I snorted.
“So what? I say, ‘go get a job and I will let you do taxes?'” I asked, “Hell, Joanne, you know as well as I do that in some ways Anthony Jr. is onto something. Being an adult is terrible. If it weren’t for the fact that if you don’t work, you don’t eat, no one would do it.” Joanne laughed and shrugged.
“There are still good things about it,” she mused.
“When I was a kid, the only things I ever wanted to do were drive and set my own bedtime. I grew up and realized that driving is just another chore and I want to go to sleep early. And Anthony Jr. already does both of those things. I can’t stop him,” I said.
“There’s sex,” Joanne said, looking over the tops of her glasses, “Is Anthony Jr. a virgin?” she asked. I felt my cheeks go red. I had not expected this sudden change in topic. It caught me off guard.
“I don’t know. I believe so,” I said, but that was a lie It was entirely impossible for him NOT to be a virgin, “Yes, he is.” I said, more honestly.
“That’s the best thing about being an adult, if you ask me,” Joanne laughed. I smiled. To be honest, I’d never had much fun with sex. And it had been, God, years since I had it. I felt a bit jealous. “Your son likely wants to have sex. But only adults can have sex. Let him know that women will want to sleep with him, if he is an adult man.”
“There aren’t any girls who come around,” I said, “I don’t know how I’d… convince someone to have sex with my son anyway,” I said, the words coming out tortuously. “If any woman wanted to sleep with him, she’d be doing it.”
“Some women don’t need to be convinced,” Joanne said meaningfully, “Or, I guess I should say, one thing in particular convinces them.” She held up her hand and rubbed her thumb against the pads of her fingers. I nearly gasped.
“You want me to hire a hooker for my son?” I said incredulously. But Joanne didn’t flinch.