I couldn’t help but stare forebodingly at the woman who sat with her two young kids as I tried to enjoy my lunch at Wegmans. Bouncing up and down in his chair like a wild jack-in-the-box, I observed the little boy attempting to stand on a booster seat as mom sat checking and rechecking her text messages. Teetering precariously against the edge of his chair, it took all I had not to reach out in anticipation of his fall. Mom, without even gazing up from her Smart (really?) phone meekly instructed him under her breath to, “Sit down and eat more of your pizza or you won’t get any more soda,” – no, really, I’m not making this up − while she continued to check her incoming messages. He downed that Coke faster than you can say, “Empty Threat,” and proceeded to fling grapes at his sister. I’m sure you know where I’m going with this. I’m going to get a lot of panties in a bunch here. But just put on your big lady underwear and grin and bear it.

Some families are appalled at the recent news of certain restaurants banning children under the age of 6. I wasn’t as upset about the rule as much as I was at the foundation for the rule. (Also, I’m not sure they shouldn’t be banning some parents under 36 as opposed to children under 6.)

When did the degradation of common courtesy and parental influence slip away from our society? These restaurants aren’t banning little people because they dislike children. They’re banning them because parents are turning a blind eye to their children being unruly and rowdy. Six or 60, it’s disturbing, and people don’t want to be around you.

I remember as a child sitting in church next to my four siblings, dressed to the nines in our Sunday best. A woman approached my mother after church and asked her how she kept us all so well behaved. Mom just blushed modestly and said, “Oh, I don’t know.” Well, I’m here to tell you…I know. If we even gave the illusion of squirming and scheming to wreak havoc, she could reach farther down that pew than a wound-up baseball pitcher, and would gently reach behind us with her long, claret fingernails − as if she was going to lovingly embrace us − then pinch the skin right behind our ear. Not enough to break the skin, but just enough to break our strong will. It scared the bejeezus out of us. There is one thing missing in willful children today that was omnipresent back then. Fear. I’m not talking about abusive, angry, neglectful or oppressive fear. I’m talking about the kind of fear − well, that I have for horses, for instance. I love horses, but I also have enormous respect for them and know where the boundaries are when I am around them. Fear can be our friend.

Children crave limits. They crave routine. But most of all, they crave having parents who will enforce boundaries. Disciplinary “threats” only need to be made sparingly in order to be effective. For instance, although I never did use a wooden spoon across the back side of my kids, the motion of merely approaching the spoon drawer − with one eyebrow raised…always − when they misbehaved was enough to send them reeling into behavior mode. It is said that respect is commanded, not demanded. If your children don’t respect you, they will not evolve into respectable adults nor will they be valued in society.

I observe some parents going to enormous lengths to analyze, discuss, dismember and dissect an instruction when the simple word “No” will suffice. I don’t think it’s necessary to carry on a five minute conversation with a young child about the reasons you don’t want him to have the sugary, red-number-three dyed and preservative laden candy bar (or Coke…) at the counter right before dinner, if at all. Children don’t need explanations why − as if to justify your parental decision-making − you feel your pronouncement is in their best interest. Stop talking so much. Use your “quiet voice.” Be moderate, firm and unapologetic.

Easier said than done? Sure, lugging that whining child through the grocery store is no picnic and can undo even the best of parents. Telling them if they don’t behave that they’ll have to leave and go sit in the car? Uh, no. They know how to call Social Services at the ripe age of five. But setting expectations prior to entering a public place − whether it is a restaurant, grocery store or mall − and stressing the consequences laying in wait for them (time out, less TV time, no foie gras at dinner) if not observed, can sometimes nip the worst altercations in the bud and provide a stress-less journey − but only if you follow through. I’m sure many of you think I’ve regressed back to the days of “children should be seen and not heard.” Let the regression begin! I don’t want to hear your kid screaming, sassing or cursing you. And I don’t want to hear you yelling at them in public in a “who has the higher pitch” contest.

I’m sure I’ll get letters from angry, defensive parents. But if you have time to write letters, you should be in there setting down some serious limits with Little Johnny. Trust me. He’ll respect you in the morning.

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Catherine DeCenzo is a freelance writer living in the Broadlands. She prefers the glass-half-full, humorous side of life and has an appetite for the irreverent in her personal blog at catclause.wordpress.com.