Squawk Radio

Now that the kids are home for a week for Thanksgiving vacation, my Mommy radar is picking up the usual trouble signals. The mysterious quiet, when you know the children are up to no good. The moments when my young son casually inquires, “Mom, where’s the goo-gone?” and when I ask him what for, he turns evasive. “Oh, nothing.”

“Nothing” happens a lot at our house.

“What was that sound?” I ask.

The answer from upstairs, “Nothing!”

“What is that blue stuff on your hands?”

“Nothing.”

“Where is your little sister? What is she doing?”

“Nothing.”

All this nothingness naturally leads to the negative language of good parenting . . .

“Don’t put your fingers there.” “No, you can’t do an experiment with the dish soap and the orange juice.” “Turn that down.” “Turn that off.” “No, leave that right where it is.” “Don’t run with that.”

And my husband Greg and I are surprised to hear echoes of our own parents’ voices. I’m starting to refer to my nerves, just as my mother did. “Children, leave that bubble wrap alone, it’s getting on my nerves.” And the other day I heard Greg, who is the gentlest of fathers and has never raised a finger to either child, say in an ominous tone, “Dont’ cry or I’ll give you something to cry about.” This, of course, was his futile attempt to hold back the chaos. When he came into the room, he asked me, “What are you laughing about?”

I told him, “My Dad used to say that to me all the time. You sound just like a Dad.”

Is there anything you’ve heard yourself saying that sounds just like your parents?