Would somebody please tell my children to stop hanging on the shopping cart as I struggle to push it out of the store? And while you’re at it, could you tell them that, yes, they can carry their own drinks to the van and, no, I cannot clip a problem toenail in the middle of running an errand?

Why do kids expect parents to do everything and be prepared for anything? I asked myself as I stopped pushing the cart and waited for the girls to get off. What's wrong with wanting them to quit latching on and start pitching in?

At the time, I didn't have an answer. That would come later when I picked up the book Raising Great Kids where, on page 63, authors Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend have this to say on the subject: "One reason why parents should not expect too much too young, is that there are critical windows of time for certain developmental tasks."

"The general thinking is that ... certain areas of the brain develop at certain ages," the authors continued, "and a child needs to have age-appropriate experiences to match those changes in the brain."

After reading these words and reflecting on my daughters' behavior, I had no choice but to find myself guilty of trying to make Katie and Hollie grow up too fast.

How frustrating it must be, I thought to myself, to feel pressure to act an age that you are not.

I knew from Ephesians 6:4 not to place unreasonable demands on my children without concern for their feelings and still I was guilty of pushing them. What I didn't know was why.

For this I turned again to the book Raising Great Kids where, on page 59, Cloud and Townsend offer this unsettling explanation: "Parents who push their children are more concerned about themselves and their feelings of pride and accomplishment than what is good for the child."

"Children may not be ready for what you expect of them;" the authors warned, "you may harm them if you require them to do things for which they are not ready."

Although I was thankful for these words of wisdom, I was also mindful that there are times when I must put my daughters through more than they would like to endure. One of those times occurred a few days after the shopping incident when we attended the 24th annual Law Enforcement Memorial Ceremony in Topeka, Kansas.

We were there to honor my step-sister's husband and other officers killed in the line of duty during the past year. Knowing that Katie and Hollie would find it difficult to sit through the long ceremony, I led the girls to the third floor of the state's capitol building where they could look down at the people speaking on the second-floor rotunda without interfering with what they had to say.

"This is boring," Hollie said as she turned her back to the ceremony and crossed both arms to show her disapproval. "When will it be over?"

"Not for a while," I whispered, "Why don't you sit on that bench over there and color?"

In a huff, Hollie stomped off with Katie in tow and I turned my attention back to the podium as Karl Hummel stood up to tell attendees about his daughter, Deanna Hummel Rose, an Overland Park police officer who died in 1985 after a traffic stop on Interstate 35 in Johnson County.

My heart went out to this man as he told about the night his daughter was killed after stopping a teenage boy for drunk driving. I cringed when he described how the suspect knocked Deanna down and ran over her as he drove away, and I cried when he told attendees that he'd give anything to have his daughter back.

By the time Karl Hummel's speech was finished, I no longer cared if Katie and Hollie hung on my shopping cart. What mattered was that they were here to hang out with me right now.

One man's perspective had changed my objective, transforming me from a mom who wanted her children to grow up, to one who just wanted to go up and give each daughter a hug.

This Friday, exactly one year will have passed since that ceremony in Topeka. Although I still have moments when I ask more of Katie and Hollie than they feel they are able to give, I also make a conscious effort to let them act their age whenever the situation and my sanity allows.

Like the day Hollie protested after I asked her to sweep the floor.

"I can't do this!" she exclaimed. "What do you think I am, a grown up?"

"No, you're not a grown up," I said with a smile as I walked over to where Hollie was standing, leaned down, and offered to lend a hand.

Happy Mother's Day.

"One day, before you know it, your children will be grown up. Enjoy them while they are getting there."

Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend, Raising Great Kids, p. 63