I’ll need a seal and an antelope
We were at my in-laws house one night when my oldest daughter, then around 4 years old, made a very polite request.
“I want to write Uncle Craig a letter,” he announced. “Can I have an antelope please?”
I remembered this incident a few weeks ago during a business trip to Brazil. I was having dinner with two colleagues at General Prime Burger, an American-themed (and, oddly enough, British-themed) casual restaurant in a very exclusive shopping mall in Sao Paulo. It’s the kind of place where one of the advertised promotions is the Smoothie Festival and where, during our visit, a boisterous birthday party for an elementary school kid and, apparently, his entire neighborhood wasn’t going to bother anyone.
Two finely dressed young mothers were seated at a nearby table with three little girls, who appeared to be around 3, 5, and 7 years old. Actually, the mothers sat at the table; the girls traveled mainly for the restaurant. They visited the boy’s birthday party, checked out the kitchen where the final touches were being put on the dishes, visited the hostess stand, and headed to a corner where there was a television set with cartoons. Their mothers watched from a distance but never moved.
In the United States, we can find this parenting style lax, rude, or even risky, especially given Sao Paulo’s reputation as a dangerous city. But the mothers weren’t doing anything wrong. The mall itself, like most such places in Brazil, has tight security, and children would never make it past the drop-off at the restaurant’s only access point. Inside that hamburger joint, those three girls enjoyed more freedom, security and autonomy than most of the other 25 million inhabitants of Sao Paulo at the time.
I put the girls down when I got up to use the bathroom. General Prime Burger has one of those modern arrangements where the sinks are shared by both genders in a common area outside the bathrooms. While she waited for the men’s room to be free, the older girl led the two younger ones into the ladies’ room. When she came out, she reminded the smaller one to wash her hands of her.
The 3-year-old couldn’t reach the sink, so the 7-year-old picked her up. That’s when I got involved, using my limited Portuguese to ask if I could help. I turned on the water for them as I did so.
It turns out that a 7-year-old girl in Brazil is a lot like the women I’ve lived with at home for the past few decades: She’s perfectly comfortable bossing me around.
“Sabonete” (sab-on-ETCH), he ordered. I put some soap on her hands and passed it to her. She rubbed the little boy’s hands together.
“Paper” directed below. I pulled out a paper towel and gave it to him. She dried her companion’s hands and led her into the restaurant without saying another word. As far as she knew, handing out soap and paper towels was my primary occupation. (I’m sure if her mother had been within earshot, she would have reminded the older girl to say “obrigada,” the feminine form of thank you. I’ve always found Brazilians to have very good manners.)
As the girls walked away, I realized that after 17 years of making more or less annual trips to Sao Paulo, I now speak Portuguese at about the level of a 3-year-old Brazilian. God knows how many times I have inadvertently asked for an antelope or its equivalent without realizing my mistake because someone had the grace to figure out what I was referring to.
Of course, most parents see it as our job to correct our children when they make such mistakes. We don’t want our children to grow up believing that the US Postal Service delivers antelope, or that strangers wait outside restrooms to hand out soap and paper towels. A skillful parent will deliver the correction (“Write the letter now and we’ll find an envelope when we get home”) in a way that doesn’t undermine the child’s self-confidence and initiative, or desire to explore a burger joint with friends and siblings.
This approach, which I learned from my experiences with my two daughters, has now seeped into my work life as a company president and financial advisor. At work, I see my role as creating a safe space in which my employees can do their best work and grow professionally, by developing procedures to ensure that their mistakes, and mistakes are unavoidable, are small, caught, and opportunities to learn.
Similarly, when working with clients who have businesses or other assets to pass down to younger generations, I try to help develop structures that promote family security, growth, and harmony. I do not advise clients to try to prevent their heirs from making mistakes; I just want the mistakes to be manageable so that they can help the young generation to grow.
It’s amazing how much we learn from our children while teaching them the difference between antelopes and envelopes.