DIANE MAKAR MURPHY It's a parent's duty to nag, nag ... uh -- advise

I stroll along a dark, seedy avenue -- someplace Gothamesque -- and see a 6-foot-tall man, dressed in camo fatigues, humming old vaudeville tunes through a natty beard.
"Gotta quarter, lady?" he says and reaches a fingerless glove toward me.
Wait a minute! I recognize that hand. It belongs to my son!
"AHHHH!"
It's not an uncommon fantasy for the parent of a teen-ager -- your kid, at the logical end of the trail he chose when he IGNORED YOUR GOOD ADVICE!
On the one hand, you've got your teen, anxious to make all his or her own choices (we would say mistakes), and a parent desperate to keep him or her from making any mistakes (your teen would say choices). It's pretty clear we're on opposite ends of a long continuum.
Of course, in my family, I offer up a smorgasbord of recommendations, many of them unsolicited, to my two teens. How to drive and how to eat, how to be healthy, chew gracefully, get a job, shoot a good photo, change a windshield wiper, fold towels, keep oatmeal from being lumpy, treat a girl respectfully, and on and on ad infinitum. Ad nauseam?
No. No!
Of course not. Some of this is good stuff. You don't leave your research paper until the last minute and expect to do well with it. You don't ask a young lady out the day of the dance. You don't WALK onto the soccer field when the coach sends you in, you run!
Why indeed? Why should my son suffer through intestinal flu when I can say, "Drink plenty of fluids and eat bananas"? Why should my daughter buy high heels, when I can say, "The balls of your feet will kill"? How can I let my son blow his big job interview? "Leave out the earring. Wear the suit, forget the fishnets!" (Just kidding.)
Josh's reasoning, on the other hand, goes something like this. He recalls a comedian, who yanks the chain on an imaginary chainsaw and jolts convulsively. "Nnnag, nag, nag, nag, nag!!" he says.
It was much easier when the kids were younger. Then, the parenting books said, "Frame it as a choice." This is where you got away with being bossy and invasive under the guise of empowering your child. If you wanted your toddler to eat vegetables, for example, instead of barking, "Vegetables. Now!" you said, "Would you rather have lima beans or carrots?" (In rhetorical argument, they call that the Fallacy of False Choice. Hee, hee, hee! It worked.)
You can still try this on your teens, but it's just not the same. They aren't so easily manipulated. First off, you aren't in charge of creating both choices anymore. The teen-ager always brings one choice to the table with him.
So, you're stuck with this: "You can go to the party at Rob's tonight or you can study for the biology test tomorrow." It's the teen-age equivalent of "Would you rather have lima beans or a Snicker's bar?" Gee, Mom, let me think, lima beans or a Snicker's Bar? Hmmm!
So, you must tweak it some to get your good advice accepted.
"You can stay home, study, get to bed early, and do well on tomorrow's bio test, or you can party at Rob's."
Still no good. Tweak some more.
"You can stay home, do well on tomorrow's test, and start on the journey to becoming a renowned, not to mention well-paid, neurosurgeon. Or, go to Rob's and start down the path of an irresponsible BUM destined to beg QUARTERS on a street corner while singing old VAUDEVILLE tunes as a police officer croaks, 'MOVE ALONG, BUDDY!' Not to mention having a mother whose HEART you've ripped out and a BOOKIE whose got his eye on your kneecaps. ... 'So, YOU thought the horse would win? Well, I thought partying at ROB'S was a bad idea!!!'"
OK, so it's not all that smooth.
I admit I'm still looking for a way to guide my teens. I am, in fact, a library parenting book-aholic.
My husband, on the other hand, whose knowledge of parenting books comes exclusively from me, claims he has known all along how to impart advice to children, teen-age or otherwise.
"Choices?" says John, "I don't give no stinkin' choices!"
"Stay home and study," he orders, "because I say so." Advice imparted (and followed).
The downside, of course, is that your kids grow up swearing they will NEVER be like you. The upside is that your kids don't end up in fishnets on street corners panhandling coins.