A bestselling author and family reveals the insecurities and fears that lurk in the hearts and minds of children. In this life-changing book, Joe White tells parents how to give their children the everyday encouragement and unshakable conviction they need to live in today's world.
What Kids Wish Parents Knew about Parenting
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Book Description
Editorial Reviews
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Part I The Lights Are On, But . . .
The chains of habit are too weak to be felt until they’re (almost) too strong to be broken.
orphan \or-fan\ n. 1. A child whose parents have left him physically. 2. A child whose parents have left him emotionally. 3. Can be evidenced by a half-smoked joint in a jeans pocket or a sexy love note left inadvertently in a drawer or a citation from the local police.
Chapter One: Slipping Away
We’re so busy giving our kids what we didn’t have
that we don’t take time to give them what we did have.
I hate to sound selfish, like everything’s mine,
but please don’t get mad when I ask for your time.
I’ll never forget the day I hit bottom in my career as a daddy.
I first started realizing my failure the day my oldest son’s babysitter taught him how to ride his bike. It’s such a monumental achievement for a boy—in fact, five decades haven’t erased the memory of reaching that milestone in my own life. But Brady had to experience it without me.
Busy (as usual) with work, I met Brady for a quick lunch that day, and he beamed with excitement as he shared the news.
I had all the right things to say: “Wow, Brady! That’s great! I’m so proud of you.” Then I added, “Brady, can I come watch you ride your bike later this afternoon?”
The response from my sweet, gentle-spirited six-year-old fell on me like an avalanche. “No, Dad, that’s okay. You’re busy in the summer.”
I’m fighting the tears again as I remember the deep remorse I felt. He had opened my heart more skillfully than a surgeon.
I was losing my son.
He knew it, and I knew it.
In my job as president of a large summer camp complex, I was so busy rescuing other people’s kids that my own were drowning. And the problem—as I knew Brady couldn’t help but discover as time went on—was that I’m busy not only in the summer but also in the fall, winter, and spring.
Brady . . . he was so little then, but he had the super imagination and the super-sensitivity that made his daddy work harder on smoothing his many rough edges and his hard-driving disposition. With a quick look into the future, I could see Brady as a teenager in someone else’s counseling office trying to sort out his bitterness toward a father too busy to show he cared.
Not long afterward, my youngest daughter was attending one of our short-term camps. We agreed to abide by the rule requesting parents not to visit their children for the entire week. (That’s tough!)
On the fifth night, Courtney got a touch of homesickness. She began to cry, and her counselor came to her bed to give her some hugs and tenderness.
“Corky, don’t cry anymore. You’ll be home in two days, and you’ll get to see your daddy and everything.”
“I never get to see my daddy!” was her bold protest.
When the week was over, the camp director came to my house. “Sit down,” he said abruptly. I sat down, wondering what this was all about.
He told me about the conversation between the counselor and Courtney—little Corky, with long, blond hair and dimples that can’t help but melt her daddy’s heart. Even when the lower lip was out in an occasional protest, a few tickles and funny faces could bring the dimples back to their rightful place.
“What are you going to do about it?” he asked.
I squirmed. He looked deep into my eyes.
The phone rang. As I went to answer it, the intercom buzzed. Then someone came to the door with an emergency. After responding to all three, I sat back down. He was still looking intently at me.
“I asked you, ‘What are you going to do about it?’ ”
“I don’t know . . . it’s hard . . . there are so many demands.”
“Joe, who are the most important people in your life?”
“My family.”
“You’re not showing it!”
He sat there and didn’t give an inch. Finally, I agreed to some commitments.
This book is an expression of my gratitude for my months of open-heart surgery that summer. To this day, I’m carrying out the commitments I made back then. It’s still hard. The demands are still there. In fact, they’re getting worse. But my priorities changed. I aborted almost everything from my life that stood between my children and me. The use-of-time knife stripped away most of the fat that surrounded the lean meat of necessity.
My wife and I continued the struggle to accomplish more during the necessary hours of daily labor, and in the remaining hours to prioritize time with our children above anything else during these years while they were still at home. We were wonderfully amazed that there was even enough time for a few luxuries.
Brady became my best male friend. I worked early and late when he wasn’t available, so that when he came home, I could grab a bat and ball or a go-cart or a fishing rod or a made-up adventure, all for the honor of getting to be by his side for a few golden ticks of the clock. His brother Cooper and his sisters Jamie and Courtney . . . all of them became World’s Best Companions to me.
The four young children who captured my heart are now young adults. The lessons I learned and put into practice then continue to reap a joyous harvest.
Allow me, in love, to ask you the same question the camp director asked me those many years ago: Who are the most important people in your life?
If it’s your family . . . are you showing it?
If not . . . what are you going to do about it?
Just as during the early days of work on Mount Rushmore, when the explosives engineer was told to blast away all the granite that didn’t look like the face of a president, so I urge you to strip away—with dynamite, if necessary—everything in your life that doesn’t look like family gold.
Chapter Two: The Champs
All children are champs—with potential they’re packed;
discovery alone is the element lacked.
Son, you’re the greatest!
—Herman “Sleepy” Morgan
On that Father’s Day morning, something told me I was being set up.
All four of my children bubbled with excitement as they led me to their playroom. I felt special to have all that attention from the ones I love the most.
Their eyes sparkled mischievously as they showed me a big white box on the playroom floor, wrapped in fourth-grader uniqueness with hand-drawn decorations on all six sides. It was so big!
“Hurry, Dad, open it up!” four little voices screamed in unison, as if from fear the box would pull a self-destruction act before I got to the contents.
As I bent down to pull off the customized wrapping paper, the box began to move, and I heard a whimpering, whining sound from inside.
Instantly I knew: I’d been framed!
“There’s a puppy inside that thing!” I exclaimed. Soon the lid was attacked by eight tiny hands, and up popped an exuberant ball of black fur.
“Daddy, Daddy, can we keep it?”
“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!”
“Don’t you just love him?”
“Let’s name him Champ!”
The sounds of excitement filled the house.
I’d been set up to the max. Even their mother was in on the deal. How does a daddy turn down a Father’s Day gift—hand wrapped in crayon-colored paper, no less?
“Okay, gang,” I accepted cautiously, “but only if you take care of him.”
“Sure, Daddy, we’ll be happy to!”
Champ was sired by my big black four-year-old retriever, Pro. Pro, who was from the bloodline of Old Yeller, Hollywood’s most famous Labrador retriever, now had a major problem: He had to share everything with that yipping, biting, pestering Champ, who was nothing but an annoyance—to both of us.
Champ may have been my new Lab . . . but in my heart, I didn’t really claim him.
Our nation’s homes are full of little “Champs.” Some are boys, some girls. Some are toddlers, and some are teens. They legally belong to a mom and/or a dad, but they’ve never felt totally claimed.
In various ways they send up their signals from every city, crying out for unconditional love and acceptance from their too-busy parents.
Almost every day I get letters from teenagers across America who feel like little Champ. One recent letter—from Amy, age seventeen—
epitomizes their cry:
I’ve always wanted so badly to please my father and my mother. I hated to be yelled at. Every time I was caught doing something wrong, I felt worthless at home and at school. It was very embarrassing for me to get into trouble. My mom, who I’ve always been close to, kicked me out of the house and started packing my things just to get back at my dad. I kept thinking to myself, “Is she serious? Where should I go? I have nowhere to go.” The scars run pretty deep.
After Pro and I had tolerated Champ for a couple of summer months, an interesting event forever altered Champ’s stature in my heart. The two dogs were bounding through our summer camp, with Champ playing his usual game of jump-up-and-bite-Pro’s-neck, lips, and-ears. As always, Pro used every ounce of self-control in his pedigree to keep from making supper out of his menacing offspring.
The two black beauties apparently stopped at our huge outdoor swimming pool—which was closed for the day—to get a drink, and Pro fell in. Labradors are born swimmers, but the distance between the water’s surface and the deck around it was about four inches higher than a dog can reach. After what must have been fifteen to thirty minutes, a teenage boy walking by the pool saw what happened next: As Pro began... --This text refers to the Paperback edition.
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More About the Author
Joe White is president of Kanakuk Kamps. He is also the author of more than 20 books and speaks across the country for Men at the Cross, After Dark, Pure Excitement, N.F.L. chapels and Focus on the Family radio. Dr. James Dobson says, "Joe White knows more about teenagers than anyone in North America." Joe and his wife, Debbie-Jo, are the parents of four grown children and the grandparents of eleven. The Whites reside in Branson, Missouri.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
13 of 14 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Excellent!,
By A Customer
This review is from: What Kids Wish Parents Knew About Parenting (Hardcover)
This was a fun to read book--in fact, I couldn't put it down. This book gives great insights, great ideas, and hope for our families! I will highly recommend this book to my friends!
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A helpful, spiritual, and very practical book,
By Midwest Book Review (Oregon, WI USA) - See all my reviews
This review is from: What Kids Wish Parents Knew About Parenting (Hardcover)
Now in a newly revised, updated, and expanded edition, What Kids Wish Their Parents Knew About Parenting: What You Need To Know Before It's Too Late by Joe White... is a solid, practical, effective and informative guide for parents to bridge the gap between adult and child perspectives in a complex, ever-changing world. From balancing freedoms, rewards, and responsibilities to evaluating strengths and weaknesses to combating the devil-may-care morality of corporate-sponsored popular culture, What Kids Wish Their Parents Knew About Parenting is a helpful, spiritual, and very practical book written especially to help concerned and conscientious parents.
4 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
This book gave me renewed hope in parenting my teen!,
By A Customer
This review is from: What Kids Wish Parents Knew About Parenting (Hardcover)
Thank you for giving parents new ideas in parenting their teenagers! It was witty, encouraging and sometimes heartbreaking. I would love to know more about Joe White and his summer camps!
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Citations (learn more)
3
books
cite this book:
- Unfolding the Tent: Advocating for Your One-of-a-Kind Child by Anne Addison on page 194
- Seven Promises of a Promise Keeper by Jack Hayford in Back Matter
- Until I Return by Jeff Walling in Back Matter
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