Warnings may not teach bitter lessons

Last week I baked a cake with my 14-year-old daughter. Then we melted squares of dark unsweetened chocolate to make a rich frosting. I saw the way she looked at the warm chocolate clinging to the side of the pot, and I knew what she was thinking.

“Don’t do it,” I said. “It isn’t sweet and you’ll be disappointed.”

But she scooped up a bit on her finger and stuck it in her mouth. In spite of my warning she was surprised by the taste and made a face. I just shook my head and said, “I told you.”

I knew what would happen because I did the same thing. I have a vivid memory of climbing a chair in my grandmother’s kitchen and reaching into the cabinet where the spices and baking things were kept.

I pried off the lid of the cocoa tin and put a spoonful in my mouth. It’s been a lot of years, but my lips still pucker with the memory.

My grandmother found me in tears, choking on the bitter powder. I got a glass of milk but not a lot of sympathy. After all, she had warned me.

But the deep suspicion all children harbor – that adults keep the good stuff out of our reach and say we won’t like it – had grown in my mind. I wanted a taste and I got it. And I had to deal with it.

Now, I’m the one with experience who can’t make anyone listen. I send my teenagers out the door and into a world full of sweet-smelling temptations and bitter lessons. They brush off my warnings and my lectures, and they laugh at my funny stories. I see the doubt in their eyes. They suspect I’m over-reacting, just trying to keep them from having fun.

What a waste. Why on earth are we left with the memory of our blunders if they aren’t going to do us a bit of good? Oh sure, we learn not to repeat the mistake, but why can’t we transfer the education to those we love?

When I give my children a warning, or tell them about something that happened to me, I am really saying, “Wait – I’ve already made this stupid mistake. I can protect you from this.”

It’s something all parents do. We don’t want to see our children go blindly into a situation we already know won’t end well. So we give them the benefit of our knowledge.

But the really frustrating thing is they aren’t deterred. In fact sometimes it only makes them more determined.

My grandmother knew that cocoa is bitter because she tasted it. And I’ll bet she was warned before she did.

I heard what she said to me but still had to learn for myself. Last week I watched my daughter’s face reflect the same lesson.

I wish I could sweeten so much of what my children have ahead of them, but I can’t. Experience, like chocolate without sugar, can be hard to swallow. But it feeds us best.