I’m not a counselor. But I used to be a long time ago.

I was listening to the next-door neighbor informally dwelling on his youngest son this afternoon. It’s a holiday Monday and a lot of our schools are closed so kids, teachers, administrators, and their families can have a long weekend in order to bond. I guess.

The neighbor is a single, divorced father who has his three kids with him in his two-bedroom apartment every other weekend. The two oldest, a boy and a girl appear to pretty much entertain themselves with video games, TV, music, and friends. The girl, who’s the oldest of the three can drive and often immediately takes off with her friends for whatever teenagers do around Sioux City Iowa. Probably rob convenience stores.

My guess is the boys go to local farmers’ feedlots and tip cows over. I don’t know, really. I’m told I really shouldn’t attempt to parent the little bastards anymore.

Anyway, the youngest entertains himself by bugging the middle child and hiding his dad’s booze. This really pisses dad off, as I can hear them yelling at one another. Finally, dad yells at the youngest, who is probably 7 years old to go outside and play in the 76-degree spring weather. A few minutes later, out comes the middle child. And the two of them start fighting and throwing rocks, darts and inflatable toys at each other while yelling: “Fuck you!”

“No, fuck YOU!”

“Fuck you, you asshole!”

“No, YOU’RE the asshole!”

And so on. Until dad intervenes and drags the younger one inside and says, “You little fucker, you go to your room!”

And the little guy says, “It’s not my room! I share it with HIM! And let go of my ARM! I want to go back to mom’s house!”

Sigh. This lovely family banter reminds me of my childhood days. I could easily drive my mom up the wall when I was 4 or 5. She was older when she had me. She was 43 and had already had four other boys, so she just didn’t have the stamina at 47 or 48 when I started to put her through her paces.

Sometimes she’d throw her hands up and say, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Gary. You make me so MAD I could fly!”

Well, this threat of hers to fly would scare the bejeebers out of me, especially at 4 or 5 years old. I was certain she could flap her arms and fly away! Or maybe turn herself into a bird and fly away. Then what would Dad and my brothers do? Who’d cook? I mean, I loved my mom. I didn’t want her to turn into a bird and leave. I didn’t much care for Dad’s cooking.

So I’d start pleading with her with tears in my eyes. “No Mom don’t flap your arms and fly away. I’m sorry. Don’t leave.”

I was scared to death. And she’d say she wasn’t going to fly away. That I just needed to be better behaved.

On the other hand, I wondered for a long time if Mom secretly was some kind of bird. Really, I did! There were LOTS OF TREES IN OUR YARD AND NEIGHBORHOOD that could aid in her getaway! So, I kept a wary eye on her until I was at least 7 and we moved to a new house on the other side of town. There weren’t any trees to speak of in our new house’s yard, so I didn’t think she’d be fluttering up into any elm, spruce, or pine trees. Plus, for some reason, she dropped the flying away threats.

Later on, she started threatening to ship me off to Boy Scout and/or church camp. My brother Tedd tore his toenails off while diving into the swimming pool at the Boy Scout Camp when I was 6. The pool had sloped concrete sides which were ideal for kids to rip their toes on.

With a name like Camp Broadaxe, I just knew that Boy Scout camp had all sorts of untold horrors lurking around every corner.

Then there was the older kid next door. His name was David and I loved to hang out around him. He was about six years older than me and had cool things like models, train sets and Erector Sets in this bedroom that he’d built. But he’d get annoyed with me after a while or if I wanted to hang out with him and his friends. Then he’d threaten to take me up to the fish hatchery in Spearfish where he said they also raised sharks. Then he said he’d feed me to the sharks. That always scared me, and I quit bothering him.

Then my mom heard about David telling me about the sharks at the fish hatchery and she evidently thought it was a great idea. So, when Mom would get annoyed with me, she would threaten to call David next door and ask him to take me up to the fish hatchery to feed me to the sharks there. And I’d start crying and run for the basement or my bedroom.

I think I believed that sharks were worse than Mom flying away.

Both Mom and David thought it was hilarious until I figured out there weren’t any sharks at the fish hatchery. Only trout.

But I still don’t care for shark movies.

Over the years as a counselor, I’ve heard some pretty horrific parenting interventions. I’ve also heard some pretty funny ones as well.

One of the best came from a colleague who had three sons. She reported that when they were pretty young and misbehaving and she was at her wit’s end she would tell them, “Okay. That’s it. I’ve had it with you guys! I’m going to call the New Mommy Replacement Service and have them replace me with a new mommy!” She said they’d start to cry and plead for her not to do that that they’d be good, that they didn’t want a new mommy. They said that she was just fine.

The last parenting intervention I’ll tell you about is one I read in a book by Jenny Lawson called Furiously Happy. Lawson told the story of a friend of her husband’s who had a pet called Terry the Truth Cat. Apparently, if her father thought she or her siblings were lying he’d pick up the cat and say something like, “You kids tell me the truth, or Terry gets it!” This seems to me to be a pretty twisted way to teach honesty to your children, but I guess it worked.

And so, we’ve reached the end of our parenting tips for now. I don’t recommend any of them. It’s really not nice to terrorize your kids. I don’t think.

I’d sure like to hear in the comments if you have any weird or strange parenting interventions to pass on. They can be ones you’ve received from your parents, ones you’ve developed and employed with your kiddos, or ones you’ve heard about.

Thanks for reading.

Ooh, the neighbors upstairs are out on their deck having an argument. Maybe they can use some counseling.

Never mind. I think I’ll go feed the cat.

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