Kids Gone Wild

"Mom! Where is the football?" Henry, 7, bellows to me in a way that makes me grit my teeth.

"Where you left it, I imagine," I respond in my gail-warning tone that makes him turn to catch my eye. Seeing that I'm not quite at my boiling point, he pushes it. "I don't KNOW where I left it! That's why I'm asking you!"

And that's when a little fissure that had started somewhere deep inside me at breakfast (after I was heaped with various demands without pleases and thank you's attached) burst open violently. For the next five minutes I lectured both Henry and Julia on manners and politeness until I was out of breath. I didn't see any irony in yelling about good manners. My children had become ruffians and I had to do something. Fast.

Admittedly, etiquette has always been a bit of a hot-button issue for me. While it's impossible to know exactly what our children are like at someone else's home, I assume if they dare to speak to me in a certain tone -- you know, that demanding and thankless way -- they just might dare to speak that way to another adult, too.

That thought keeps me off balance and uneasy, especially in contrast to even one other polite kid. An innocent phone greeting like, "Hello, this is Caroline. May I please speak with Julia?" or a "Nice to meet you," accompanied by solid eye contact and a handshake, always seem to get me in a tizzy about my own kids' manners.

"Caroline met Miss Manners. She's a real person," Julia, 9, offers up the next day as I try to explain guidelines for politeness in a more rational, and civil, way. Since Caroline is one of the most courteous kids we know, I'm on the phone with her mom asking about Miss Manners quicker than you can say, "thank you." Caroline's mom fills me in about www.themannersclub.com, a website run by "The Manners Lady" Judi Vankevich, that offers helpful advice and answers to questions. I also buy her CD about manners to play for the children.

After that I take a tip from another savvy mom, Eve, who specializes in what I like to call positive reinforcement techniques. I tell her how we're been on the road to Bad Mannersville and she encourages me to institute a system that worked well for their family. When a child is polite, doesn't talk back, and generally makes an effort not to bicker with their siblings, you plop something into a jar like a Cheerio, Teddy Graham, or anything else small and readily available. You lavish praise upon them when you put something in the jar. When they have a bad day, you don't remove anything, but you don't add to it either. When the jar is full, the kids get to go on a special, out-of-the-ordinary outing such as a local amusement or water park.

As I write this, our little good-manners jar is now only half empty -- or half full as I prefer to look at it. I think Miss Manners would approve.