Training Reinforcement

CHAPTER 19Sore Made

In the summer of 1971, when I was four years old, my parents let me play in the garden behind our house. As little kids do, I liked to discover the world. Of course, I did not always do what my mother told me to do: “Don’t play with the flowers.” “Stay on the grass.” “Don’t throw the football over the fence.”

The more my mother told me what to do, the more I wondered: “What if I don’t show that behavior?” (I probably didn’t ask that specific question in those words at that age.)

When my mother told me to do or not to do something, I often did the opposite. When she said, “Don’t throw your football over the fence,” she triggered me to see what would happen if I threw the ball over the fence. And of course, I did.

My mother made it clear that she did not like what she had seen. She told me to go to the neighbor’s house, explain what I had done, and ask whether I could get my football back. I knew this was a serious command, so I listened to my mother.

Shy and afraid, I went to the front door of the neighbor’s house and rang their bell. When they opened the door, I explained what had happened, and I apologized for my behavior. The neighbor told me I could get my football from the garden behind their house.

When I entered their garden, I saw a wash line where a big white Japanese suit was hanging in the sun. My red plastic football lay under the suit. I was fascinated by the white suit, but I was also afraid to look at the other side of that suit. Was there ...