This Whole Thing Is Psychological
By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026
October 28, 2026
Hello, coffee drinkers.
As I began this morning’s edition, a notice came in warning about young people and cigarette smoking. It got me thinking about the strange appeal of anything somebody tells you not to do.
Every generation tests the boundaries. Put up a fence, and somebody wants to see what’s on the other side. Put up a sign saying “Keep Out,” and now you’ve given them somewhere to go Saturday night.
Sometimes I wonder whether we’ve been approaching things backward. Tell young people not to eat anything healthy, and perhaps they’ll sneak off somewhere with a salad. Tell them they’re forbidden to come home before midnight, and they might be sitting on the couch by ten.
I wouldn’t build a parenting manual around that theory. But I have seen worse ideas put into practice.
I had five older siblings. All of them had curfews. Usually, they broke them. And usually, there were consequences severe enough that you would have thought the next one might learn something.
Apparently, each preferred to conduct an independent investigation.
By the time I reached the age when my siblings had begun campaigning for their freedom, my parents didn’t set a curfew for me.
The people most upset about this were my adult siblings.
They didn’t think it was fair.
I explained that I wasn’t out doing the things they had been doing.
That did very little to improve their attitude toward my freedom.
To this day, I don’t know why my parents were more relaxed with me. Maybe they trusted me. Maybe they were tired. Maybe, after raising the first five, they looked at the sixth and thought, “What’s the use?”
I preferred the trust explanation. My siblings probably had other theories.
There was another little difference between my childhood and theirs. I had been an uncle since I was five years old. My parents were already grandparents while they still had a young child of their own to raise.
That family arithmetic entertained me considerably.
As I got older, I enjoyed reminding them that, depending on how quickly the next generations got started, they could conceivably become great-great-grandparents before I turned twenty-five.
I thought that was a remarkable possibility, deserving of thoughtful discussion.
Their response was considerably shorter.
“Shut up!”
So, I suppose they did set limits on me.
Just not the ones my siblings wanted.
