I stole a french fry right from the hands of my eight-year-old niece, and she said “You’re so cool.”

Is that the reaction you’d expect? Let me complete the picture:

So there I was, minding my own business, digesting some fast food we’d bought on the way to Chicago; I had already polished off my whole supper. My eight-year-old niece was sitting in the vehicle right across from me, still working on hers. She takes out a french fry, waves it around at me taunting me with “I’ve got a french fry, you don’t have any, I have a french fry…” Singing, of course. You get the picture.

She’s waving it at me, don’t forget. So I snatch it out of her hand, chew it up and swallow it, enjoying every morsel along the way. Gloating, even. I then ask her “Did you learn anything?”

She thinks for a moment — a bit of a pause, here — and takes out another french fry, and starts to wave it again, with the same song: “I’ve got a french fry, you don’t have any, I have a french fry…” but this time it’s well out of my reach. I say “Very good,” with a large grin.

She says “You’re so cool!”

I say “For stealing a french fry from you?”

She says “For teaching me stuff.”

Apparently she understands that I’m not going to steal all of her food. And here I thought I had her snowed.

Part of the context here is that most adults treat kids like they’re fragile, or should be fragile. Me stealing her french fry was a refreshing, bracing stimulus bringing her in direct contact with the “real world”. Most adults talk to kids, they don’t interact with kids. (I expect I’ll never understand how an adult can forget what it was like being a kid, and the types of interaction a kid hungers for. Zut alors!)

This probably would have induced emotional trauma if she was age three. But an eight-year-old is at the Age of Reason where she can start to make lots of conceptual connections. Valuable lesson, and it only cost a french fry.

So here are the rules:

1. Establish a relationship of trust with the kid
2. Let them experience a real loss (you should pick and choose, here — if you start with small losses early on, you might be able to avoid really big losses later)
3. Get them to examine the situation and encourage them to consider what they would do differently next time
4. Lather, rinse, repeat

It’s the sense of loss (or pain) that sets the stage for real learning. Skin your knee in a bicycle accident? You’ll work hard to never do it that way again. Lose your favorite watch? Once you find it or replace it you’ll pay much closer attention to where you set it down from now on. Say something really stupid and tick off a best friend? You’ll learn to either pay more attention to how you say things, or figure out how to get along without your ex-best friend.

But having them reflect on step 2 — this reflection itself is actually step 3 — is where the educating really happens. Get them to look at cause and effect, to reflect on their choices, and consider alternatives.

It’s that second step where most adults prefer to be efficient, or act the hero, rather than let their children learn. “My precious widdiw snookums needs his glasses, I’ll go get them for you, you silly forgettery-goose!” “Ickle duddykins must wear knee pads and only use the trampoline with the net around it, we don’t want any accidents!” “I’ll bail you out of jail, son, I’m on my way with the cash right now!”

Plus, you might wind up being late to the occasional baseball practice or the play or the party, if you let them panic about not being able to find something while you wait. Sure, it’s more efficient on time if you find it for them… but only in the short term is more efficient on time — just this afternoon, but not long term! You’ll be finding their stuff for them from now through when they return home from college!

When you separate consequence from action as a kid grows up — separating effect from cause — you’re likely to wind up with a totally irresponsible adult.

Completely unlike the U.S. Congress. I don’t know why you even brought that up.