GREY MUTTER lance fredericks My head was too small

WHO WOULDN’T want to shine “like a new sixpence”? I remember scrubbing all the hidden corners and crevices before a family gathering, because these gatherings were where the most compliments could be reaped.

And I needed compliments so that my hat would fit …

Being clean and groomed and being admired and praised by all the aunts, uncles and the grandparents is what I craved. No, I didn’t crave praise because of any inferiority complex … I craved praise so that my hat would fit.

Allow me to explain.

In the time before Google, Wikipedia and the easy access to information we have these days, children’s imaginations had to fill in the blanks where our innocent, childlike observation fell short.

Now, imagine a young boy who used to admire the uniforms of the tin soldiers in the storybooks. Think of the story of the one-legged tin soldier – many young people have never heard that tale. In those days storybooks had one or two pictures at most. It was the words that mattered, because our minds would fill in the rest of the illustrations.

But in the illustrations that were there the tin soldier wore a tall tapered hat as part of his uniform, and I thought it looked so smart, it was so regal and military-like, and I wanted a hat like that.

The closest substitute was the bucket. I will remind you that Google and Wikipedia were around 30 years away, so how was I to know any better? To me the tin soldier’s hat was a bucket … so I would wear it. The problem is that my military hat would constantly plonk over my head rendering me blind … and not very popular on the playground as a result. I couldn’t see my enemies, which made me a poor excuse for a soldier.

Now does it make sense why

I was always fishing for praise at family gatherings? Here’s how it worked: I once heard someone say that praise makes one’s head swell. So my eight year-old brain, sans Wikipedia and Google, convinced me that the tin soldier looked so smart in his uniform that all the other soldiers praised him, which made his head swell. And with a swollen head his “bucket” could fit, therefore all I needed was enough praise so that my military hat would fit.

And when I was told that I was shining like a new sixpence, I could actually feel my head adjusting itself to the required size.

Anyway, I blame my family for not being lavish enough with their praise, since my military hat still doesn’t fit to this day!

It’s amazing how we crave praise. It’s become such a drug that people seem to believe that praise is all they need. In fact I have observed parents who believe that their children should ONLY be praised and encouraged.

“Don’t say negative things to my angel!” seems to be the general attitude.

I cringe when I think of what will happen to mollycoddled angels when they meet the real world where other people – who by the way also want things their way – are going to burst their bubble.

Perhaps it’s time to go to war against our egos, declare a jihad against pride. And just to be clear, the Arabic word “jihad” is often translated as “holy war,” but in a purely linguistic sense, the word “jihad” means struggling or striving.

I read a statement attributed to Persian philospher and theologian Al-Ghazali: “Declare your jihad (struggle) on 13 enemies you cannot see,” he writes. “Egoism, arrogance, conceit, selfishness, greed, lust, intolerance, anger, lying, cheating, backbiting, gossiping and slandering. If you can master and destroy them, then you will be ready to fight the enemy you can see.”

So I wonder these days if it wouldn’t be better to gently expand our youth’s minds with honesty rather than inflate their heads with flattery … yes, gently.