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such foot follies. Riffing off Dolto, the French clinical psychologist Nathalie Rocailleux writes about how important it is not only to lay down the rules for children, especially between the ages of eighteen months and four years, but also to “explain to the child the reason for the limits.” This way, kids will “trust the adult’s words and come to understand authority as necessary and as a source of security.” I have a couple of great reasons I don’t want feet on the coffee table (oh, and I should remember to explain these reasons to my husband). First of all, people eat from there. Call me old-fashioned, but it’s kind of nasty to have foot funk, or even the memory of it, anywhere near an eating space, no matter how stinky the cheese upon it. Second, it’s bad manners. Manners are
huge
in France, as I’ll discuss later. Right now I’ll just say that manners are good, and a healthy understanding of etiquette leads to betterbehaviors all around. I have heard it said, and now have found, that strong structure, and ritual for that matter, not only helps but actually creates discipline. If bedtime always occurs at eight o’clock, without all of the waffling and bargaining I know goes on in many American homes, then children will come to accept it as a given and not create a stink every night when it’s time to hit the hay. In our house, we’d disintegrated into the habit of announcing bedtime about twenty minutes before our target time, because a long negotiation had become inevitable. If I forgot to make the announcement, the girls got less sleep. That’s not right.
    Rocailleux also points out that adults should set rules that are reasonable—not tyrannical or based purely on their own desires—but that are for everyone’s good. She adds that the adults must apply the rule equally to everyone. Okay, new rule: No feet on tables. No exceptions (darling husband).
    I had a problem of giving in to my kids, which is a big, big problem, it turns out. So many times have I told them “only one show” (from Netflix—at least I’ve improved things a little by cutting cable), then relented when they sweetly begged for a second episode. Part of the trouble is that those cute little faces have so much power to manipulate me when used correctly, but other factors that have contributed to my frequent caving-in are: 1) Another twenty-five minutes of peace and quiet can be irresistible. 2) They are so happy and lovey when I relent. “You are the best mom in the omniverse!”
    Unfortunately, this led us to the point where they did not really hear what I said the first time, knowing that there was a good chance I’d crumble (sound familiar?). The French parents I’ve been squatting with lately would never buckle, no matter how adorable the pressure: “Catrine, don’t back down! You will have not so many arguments if you stick to your first word.”
    So true. In the short time I’ve upped my hard-assery quotient, I’ve seen real results. I was so proud when my girls each had a friend over recently. I had given each of the kids half an ice cream sandwich, and there was one left in the box. Oona had the bright idea of cutting the last confection into fourths. It was reasonable, I guess, but I’d already set the limit at a half, because I knew we were attending a party later in the day, which was certain to add to the treat tally. I crushed her tiny dream. You know what? It felt good. One of the wee visitors, however, had clearly not been exposed to the French. “Oh, come on! It’s just another bite. I know my mom wouldn’t mind. Please! I am the guest, after all.” There were so many things wrong with her behavior that I had to take a deep breath, but before I could begin to explain things to her, I heard my own
chérie
answer for me, “Don’t even try it. Begging doesn’t work on my mom. Let’s go play.” Score one for the chief!
    This chief does not always win so decisively, though, so don’t be