My garden is a teensy bit overgrown. I just don't have the gumption to garden when it's 90 degrees before 8 a.m. and our days have been a whirlwind of camps and swimming and trips to the beach and to visit dear friends and baby showers and bowling and skee ball and trips to the aquarium and theater and library and the making of zucchini bread and repeated showings of Eclipse and suddenly I'm staring down more peppers than I thought a plant could produce and I still don't know how to can them. I've found a website that advises storing things in vinegar for well-intentioned but ultimately half-assed gardeners such as moi. So much to do. Each day rushes into the next before.

Anyway, I didn't want to get into that so much as I wanted to note that my garden is not unlike a tropical jungle swimming with giant plants and requiring one to don hip waders and mosquito netting to repair the plants that keep being knocked to the ground during storms. During one such tentative outing, I was wrestling with one my tomato plants (and for the amount of space they take up, these dang Brandywine tomatoes better be beyond compare for flavor) and trying to get it to agree to not lay on the ground where it will rot, I cam across my old nemesis. I have a lot of nemeses in the garden world, it would seem. Just when one has been duly subdued, another rises to challenge my dictatorship. And since I've been fighting off the mammals for the past couple seasons, I suppose it's only fair that the insect world resume its quest for domination. First we had the great potato bug plague of 2010 and now, now the tomato horn worm has made a reappearance.

Oh the irony. Oh the humanity. Because I took a chance on the rave reviews of the heirloom brandywine tomato plant, I was forced to pull my borage, as the tomato plant went all jack-in-the-beanstalk on me. It needed more room and so I pulled the one thing that has stood between my garden's tomatoes and the hornworm who wants to destroy them. And so the hornworm obviously took this removal of the borage as a vacancy sign and set-up shop.

In case you are new here let's just say in previous pre-borage years I have railed about how I loathe those puffy, squiggly overgrown bits 'o grossness. But I am also scared of them. And so I have waited for the wasps to come and save me by laying their eggs in the worms, thus causing them to die while I stand around with my martini and laugh. But this year, I am fueled by rage.This year, I have come to the realization that they cannot fly into my hair and become entangled (childhood trauma involving a fly apparently) because they cannot fly. And so I have been pulling those mo-fos off my plants and either popping them into a nice bucket of soapy water to drown a hopefully slow painful death or storing them in containers to give to my friend's chickens where she has assured me she is videotaping the torment of the worm as it is ripped to shreds by beaks and claws. It is on.

I'm going to go ahead and hazard a guess as to why today's youngsters seem to have a certain sense of entitlement: because we applaud their every move.

Once upon a time, I moved on to each grade from kindergarten up until my junior year of high school without any graduation ceremony. No one gave me a kindergarten diploma or gave me a plaque for being able to zip-up my pants. It was expected that I would show-up to school, do my best (or enough to get by) and move on. It was what was done. Sometimes I did well and was proud of myself. Sometimes I did poorly and was told to study harder. No one raced into school to chastise the teacher for grading me too harshly. It was my responsibility to pass or fail on my own merit.

When I played the equivalent of little league and then high school sports, I didn't end each season with a giant trophy and a signed certificate lauding my ability to have a positive attitude or cheer the loudest. Because only the player (note the lack of plural--that's right boys and girls, once upon a time ONE person was deemed to be the best) who truly out-performed everyone else was crowned MVP. And quite frankly, it never bothered me that that person was never me. Because I was not the best. And it never occurred to me to be upset about it. It was okay that others were better. I just enjoyed playing for the sake of playing.

And so with this attitude I went to Mort's recent camp Awards Ceremony with puzzled trepidation. Mort had gone to a three day bug camp, spending two hours there each day--save of course for the last day in which a half-hour of the camp was devoted to praising our children for existing. What exactly was being awarded? Showing up? Having parents who put on your sunscreen? I deserved an award because it took me longer to drive him to and fro than it did for him to participate. So, yes, I thought the whole thing was a bunch of hooey. And I'm sad to report that I was in the vast minority. My friend and I were the only two parents who arrived sans cameras and/or video cameras. Out of probably thirty or so moms. We rolled our eyes and muttered under our breath as little Susie and Johnny(not their real names. Kids today are never named Susie or Johnny because then they wouldn't stand out. Kids' names are so over the top that a girl named Sue would be a freak show.) were loaded down with certificates and ribbons and walked across the room to shake hands with the director of the program and their individual counselor. And the parents were eating it up.

I can only imagine the families sitting around 15 years from now, watching these videos and the children asking what they were being awarded for. I'd love to hear their parents' answers: "Why, for showing up, of course!"

People. You are not doing your children any favors. You cannot make them the best at everything by saying so or fighting their battles or insisting that everyone is special in the same way in every aspect. It's like the movie The Incredibles: "We're going to make everyone special so that no one is." At some point, your child is going to live on their own. You may be able to bully your child's teachers and coaches and even professors into awarding their averageness for much of their life. But at some point, they are going to be passed over for a promotion or they are going to want to date someone who doesn't return their affection.They are going to bid on a house that is beyond their means or want a raise and not get one. They may fall prey to any of the absolutely normal crappy things that happen to humans because of the whole we're human deal. You will be unable to prevent their illness or car accident or disappointment at not winning the lottery. And if you haven't taught them how to persevere, they will be screwed. It will happen. And you can't threaten to sue someone because they don't want to date or hire your 24 year old or cast them in a movie or publish their book or make them president of the world. Although I'm pretty sure at least one parent has tried.

Of course no one wants to see their child suffer or fail or falter. But how will they ever know what it is like to achieve something or succeed or even feel truly happy if they are never allowed to experience the opposite? How will they grow? How will they learn empathy or sympathy or strength of character? What do parents hope to achieve by making certain there are no bumps in the road?

What exactly are we trying to protect our children from? It is okay to do something for the sake of doing it. It is okay to enjoy something even if you aren't The Best at it. It's okay to work hard. Let's not set-up our children to be the ones who get eaten by zombies. Thank-you.