Children are remarkably observant. They watch everything we do. They watch how we talk, how we eat, how we drive, how we treat people, how we respond when someone cuts us off in traffic, and—perhaps most importantly—how we behave when we think nobody is watching. Then they do the same thing. We call it “monkey see, monkey do.” It’s actually a pretty sound theory of human development. The problem is that nobody ever specified that the monkey they were supposed to imitate was supposed to be a good monkey.
Because children don’t come into this world knowing how to behave. They study us. And apparently, we are their teachers. Which is a little concerning when you consider some of the things we’re teaching them.
Take driving. A child sits in the back seat for years, quietly absorbing the rules of the road. They learn that a red light means stop, a green light means go, and a yellow light apparently means, “Floor it before it turns red.” They learn that the speed limit is more of a suggestion, that the left lane is apparently reserved for people who have somewhere extremely important to be—even if they’re traveling three miles under the speed limit—and that turn signals are optional equipment. They also learn that when another driver does something stupid, the appropriate response is to question that person’s intelligence, ancestry, upbringing, and possibly their eligibility to operate a motor vehicle.
All before they can legally drive.
Then there’s parking. Children watch us pull into a parking lot and immediately learn one of life’s great mysteries: Why are there painted lines if we’re not actually supposed to park between them? They watch adults take up two spaces, park diagonally, back into spaces for no apparent reason, stop in the middle of the aisle, and, my personal favorite, sit in the driver’s seat with the blinker on for approximately seventeen minutes while everyone waits patiently behind them because apparently they’re having an existential crisis over whether they want to go into Target. And then we wonder why the next generation doesn’t know how to park. They know exactly how to park. They learned from us.
Bathrooms aren’t much better. Children learn that we wash our hands. At least, that’s what we tell them. What they actually observe is a complicated social experiment involving people who walk into a public restroom, spend thirty seconds in a stall, flush, and immediately walk out without going anywhere near a sink. Children notice these things. They notice everything.
They notice how we treat waiters and waitresses. How we treat cashiers. How we talk about the person driving slowly in front of us. How we react when someone makes a mistake. How we behave when we’re inconvenienced. How we treat someone who can’t do anything for us. And they notice whether our behavior changes when someone important walks into the room. We may think we’re teaching them manners, but they’re also learning hypocrisy, impatience, arrogance, kindness, compassion, and everything else we demonstrate without realizing we’re giving a lesson.
Then there is food. We tell children to eat healthy while we’re standing at the kitchen counter at 10:30 at night eating cold leftovers directly out of the container because we’re “not really hungry.” We tell them not to eat junk food, then hide the good cookies. We tell them to try new foods, then they watch us remove the onions, tomatoes, peppers, cilantro, and anything else that looks remotely suspicious from our own plate. We tell them to chew with their mouths closed, then sit on the couch eating chips while talking on the phone. Children don’t listen to hypocrisy. They study it.
And now, of course, we’ve added social media to the equation.
So the monkey isn’t just watching Mom and Dad anymore. The monkey has Wi-Fi.
Now they have millions of other monkeys to watch. And those monkeys have filters, ring lights, sponsorships, carefully edited videos, and absolutely no apparent understanding of consequences. A child can watch someone behave badly online and see thousands of comments saying, “That’s hilarious!” And somewhere in that child’s developing brain, a little light comes on: Apparently, this is acceptable.
And just like that, the classroom has expanded from the family room to the entire planet.
The same thing happens everywhere. At the grocery store, kids watch adults abandon shopping carts in parking spaces rather than walk thirty feet to the cart return. They watch people cut in line, block entire aisles while carrying on conversations, and stop dead in the middle of a doorway as if they’ve suddenly forgotten why they entered the building in the first place. At restaurants, they watch adults complain about the food before they’ve even tasted it, treat the server like a servant rather than a human being, and leave their table looking like a small tornado passed through it. Then we tell our children to clean up after themselves.
We tell them to put their phones away while we’re staring at ours. We tell them to listen while we’re talking over somebody else. We tell them to be respectful while we’re insulting strangers on the internet. We tell them not to judge people while we spend an entire conversation judging someone we barely know. We tell them that everyone deserves kindness, then lose our minds because somebody took “our” parking space.
Children are watching.
They’re always watching.
And whether we realize it or not, we’re teaching them how to interact with the world. Every time we drive. Every time we park. Every time we sit down at a restaurant. Every time we use a bathroom. Every time we encounter a stranger. Every time somebody annoys us. Every time we’re wrong. Every time we’re inconvenienced. Every time we think nobody is paying attention.
They’re learning.
Monkey see. Monkey do.
So maybe the real challenge isn’t simply teaching our children how to behave. Maybe it’s remembering that we’re demonstrating the behavior first.
And considering some of the things I’ve seen people do in a Costco parking lot, I’m beginning to think we may need to start with ourselves.
There’s more waiting at https://xinkblotz.com.
Telling stories, sharing thoughts, and drinking coffee. A blend of fiction, reflection, and whatever’s brewing—one post at a time.
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© 2026 Mariano Velez ~ InkBlotz Press
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