The fallacy of relentless enthusiasm, or why positive reinforcement only goes so far.

I don’t want to be like Eeyore about life.

After all, spending time with someone pessimistic is akin to swallowing a jar of marbles, one by one, until your intestinal tract is full to the brim with glass, and the weight of the world in your stomach.

But I myself am naturally inclined to a cynical view of life. It’s in my genes. My Grandfather was one of those classic old miseries, an aged grump to his last, forever moaning about the state of the world, whilst ogling the news for disasters.  He had lived through the war, though, so his experience of life probably wasn’t rosy tinted. But, then he doted on me, slipping me Fisherman’s Friends like dog drops, as I padded around after him as a toddler – he recognised a fellow pessimist when he reared one, and nurtured our bond of perpetual half emptiness over ‘late night’ lap visits to catch a glimpse of Corrie, whilst taking  contraband sips of his (rather full) sherry.

Jonah is a taciturn fellow, and with his shock of blonde hair, tendency to wear hats and stick limbed steak of piss physique,  I sometimes see him as my grandfather reincarnated.

This is no bad thing, although Jonah’s displeasure at ordinary joys can be hard to swallow.  But then,  optimism is the last stand of the fool, as I pointed out in my blog “The 2nd Law of Thermodynamics, or why pessimism is a saner state than optimism.” It’s amazebollocks. Honest Gov.

However, these days relentless enthusiasm towards your children is deemed the only appropriate parenting method. But I would beg to disagree.

We learned the hard way with Jonah. The third or fourth time he would  refuse to do as he was asked as a toddler, or just plain ignore us, which was/is often, we’d generally get a bit narky with him. Nothing major, but raised voices run in the family.

It never worked. Ignoring his ‘behaviour ‘ was always more effective for long term cessation. So I fell for the positive reinforcement myth, to a degree, and every little turd that fell in the right place was greeted with effusive enthusiasm and a chocolate button, while his less charming moments were ruthlessly ignored.

I’m not saying it doesn’t work. But I think the bribery was more effective than the praise. But the continual effusiveness about putting on his socks rather dulled his response to praise. If every scribble is a work of art, why bother learning to oil paint?

It occurred to me that I haven’t hammered home my point enough on this subject when I came across this devilish little website, courtesy of @ParentDish_UK, which enables parents to showcase their child’s crappiest work, which I thought was downright amusing, and a refreshing  break from child centric parents blinded by their offspring’s brilliance and their own relentless enthusiasm about it.

Kids need putting in their place every now and then. Otherwise how are they ever going to cope with the pain of being normal? Staying cheerful in the face of adversity is a skill, not least a virtue. Wartime spirit epitomised it. But being honest is more important in the long run. Call a shit a shit, I say. Just maybe not to your kids.