Can Parents Use The Leader In Me Strategies At Home?

After I found out my Alpha mate, Bruce, couldn't let go of his ex-mate, Fiona, and her pup, I started teaching our son to call him "Alpha Bruce." When our son had a fever, Fiona called my mate away in the middle of the night. I touched my son’s burning forehead and had him say, "Goodbye, Alpha." When he bailed on the birthday party he’d promised our son because Fiona called, crying that her own son didn't have a father, I didn't even look up. I just had our son explain to the guests, "The Alpha has something important to do." Our son always hesitated for a long time. Until Bruce finally realized how much he’d failed us. He suggested we take a family portrait. But at the studio, Fiona called again, sobbing. “Bruce, can you please come and pretend to be Tony’s dad? The kids at daycare are making fun of him for not having one…” A flicker of guilt crossed Bruce’s face. He was about to kneel and explain it to our son. But this time, our son didn't need my cue. He just waved. “It’s okay, Alpha Bruce. Go be with your other pup. Mom and I are enough for the family photo.”

Mom and Dad have given me all their love. They've decorated a princess bedroom for me, where unlimited Barbie dolls await me there. Since I love bathing a lot, they've also sunk in a huge amount of money just to custom-make a bathtub for me. They keep telling my younger sister, Olivia Grant, to protect me forever. But when Olivia and I are taking a bath together, she accidentally chokes on the bathwater. That's when Mom goes nuts. She strangles me violently while roaring at me, "We thought you'd learn to love your sister as long as we treated you well! Who would've thought that you're an ingrate who tried to drown her?" I can only shake my head in alarm. But Mom quickly shoves me into the washing machine. "You like bathing that much, don't you? Well, you can bathe to your heart's content!" After that, Mom and Dad take Olivia out to play. What they fail to notice is that they've accidentally turned on the washing machine. Water soon fills the chamber, and yet I can't climb out of the washing machine at all. As I feel myself tumbling around with the dirty laundry, I can only open my eyes with great difficulty as I look at my parents, who have returned home once again. I don't want to take a bath anymore. Can Mom and Dad please stop getting mad at me?

Mom was a top student at a prestigious school and had always been determined to be the best at everything. She demanded that I learn to walk by seven months, speak fluently by eighteen months, and master all addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division by the age of three. I did all of it. Yet Mom still felt it wasn’t enough. However, when my younger brother, Liam, didn’t speak until he was five, Mom clapped and cheered when he finally did, celebrating his “late-blooming brilliance”. I didn’t think anything of it. Until one day, I was wearing headphones, memorizing Spanish words, and accidentally let the sound leak out, scaring Liam. He clutched his chest and cried, saying his heart hurt. Mom’s eyes turned red as she stormed over and slapped me. Then she grabbed my ear, twisting it a full 360 degrees with all her strength. The pain in my ear was so intense that I lost all feeling, and the fear made me nauseous to the point of vomiting. Still, Mom forced the headphones back on, cranked the volume to the maximum, and locked me in the storage room to reflect. “How could I give birth to such a terrible child? You’re just jealous of Liam. No matter how much I do for you, you’ll never appreciate it! “Love listening to words, huh? Then listen all you want.” But seven days later, when she opened the door, she completely lost it.

My mom is terrified of being laughed at by others the most. Whenever the holidays are here, she will keep repeating one sentence to me—"Don't go around embarrassing me." When my relatives gather around and chat with each other, I accidentally knock a fruit platter over. Mom drags me over and slaps me on the spot. At the holiday feast, I grab extra pieces of steak for myself. Mom responds by kicking my chair over. When it's time for the holiday gifts to be distributed, my aunt, Gabriella Hall, has miscalculated the number of children present among the family. So, she has prepared one less gift for the occasion. Mom doesn't hesitate to kick me out of the apartment, leaving me shivering in the cold corridor in just my indoor clothes. The icy winds chill me to the bone. I keep slamming my palms on the front door while screaming and crying my apologies at Mom, and yet she remains unmoved and silent. Instead, she turns to face Aunt Gabriella with an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm really sorry. I didn't raise my daughter well. It's only fair that you ridicule me." What Mom doesn't know is that I get triggered whenever I hear the word "ridicule" thanks to her so-called parenting lessons. Whenever I hear that word, I want nothing more than to hurt myself uncontrollably. So when I hear the word "ridicule" coming out of Mom's mouth through the front door, I turn on my heel quietly and begin making my way toward the bridge next to the neighborhood that's plunged into darkness. The moment I jump from the bridge, the only thought I have is, "Mom, no one will ridicule you because of me this time."

My mom is an HR professional. She uses KPI to determine my entire life. "If you get into the top ten of your grade, you'll receive a B grade as well as a bonus of 500 dollars. If you can achieve a ranking at a state-level competition, you'll receive an A grade as well as a bonus of 1,000 dollars. Of course, if you can get into a top-tier university after scoring well in your SATs, I'll give you an S+ grade as well as a year-end bonus of ten thousand dollars!" I work my ass off in my studies and manage to earn the offer letter to a top-tier university. But that's when my mom puts a contract in front of me. "Congratulations on getting hired. From today onward, your allowances will be determined by the total of your base salary, KPI, as well as your full attendance award. "Your base salary is 500 dollars. It's to make sure that you won't starve to death, at the very least. In order to help you adapt to workplace stress in advance, I'll check on your progress randomly. If you don't meet my requirements, I'll deduct your salary." When I'm down with a fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit, my mom deducts my full attendance award, claiming that my physical attributes aren't up to par. In order to catch up on my studies, I've completely forgotten to submit my weekly report to my mom. Because of that, she suspends my allowances. So, I have to sell my blood to a hospital behind her back just so I can survive. At the end of the school term, I show my mom my grades as well as the certificate to my scholarship, thinking that I'll be eligible for the highest KPI and the bonus. But that's when my mom tells me coldly, "The company has decided to give your S+ bonus to your younger brother as a form of investment. After all, he has more potential to achieve better results compared to you." As I gaze down at the 200-dollar consolation prize, I can't help but laugh. It turns out that I'm not even worthy of being recognized as a good employee in my mom's company.

I donated 45 million to the city's best kindergarten, but my daughter failed the enrollment interview. She was a polymath. Furious, I demanded an explanation from admissions. She hurled an assessment file at my face. "Your daughter's brilliant, but you're the exact opposite! You're dead last among the parents!" She continued, "The others have tech domes! You're nothing but a regular Ivy League graduate! Your degree's worth about as much as toilet paper!" The other teachers laughed as well. "If we admit her daughter, it's going to look bad on the other kids. She can't take that responsibility." "Yeah, I can't believe she's demanding an explanation from Ms. Johnson. Her husband is the kindergarten's biggest stakeholder. He can make sure her daughter has nowhere to go." The admission teacher shoved me away. With disdain in her eyes, she said, "Out of my sight if you know what's good for you. My husband is picking me up in his Rolls-Royce. His car plate alone is worth more than your life! It's lucky 777! Only one in Georgeport!" Three sevens? That was my husband's car. I laughed mirthlessly and texted my husband. "I had no idea you had another wife behind me."