I recently had some returns to make to Trader Joe’s. When I arrived, the employee told me he could not accept the babka because their expiration date was too close. I was disappointed and frustrated - it was unopened and uneaten - but I accepted the answer and finished my shopping. As I was checking out, the employee told me he would make an exception and take the return “because you accepted the answer and didn’t make my day more unpleasant.” I was grateful…and also horrified that not throwing a tantrum was considered an anomaly.

But I get it. Entitlement is everywhere. People miss deadlines but still expect entry. Adults receive a kindness and complain it wasn’t more. Kids act disproportionately disappointed when their holiday gifts don’t meet their expectations.

I think about this a lot in my own home. As the holidays approach, I love making my kids happy and feel fortunate to celebrate joyfully, providing for their wants in addition to their needs. But I get frustrated when they complain about a vacation not being fancy enough, our house not being the one they want, or their gifts not living up to their expectations. I want my kids to feel grateful. I want them to appreciate what they do have. And most importantly, I don’t want them growing up unable to handle disappointment—or worse, becoming adults who make Trader Joe’s employees’ days worse.

So how do we fulfill our children’s wants and create magical holiday celebrations without growing a sense of entitlement?

Research consistently shows that the best antidote to entitlement is gratitude. We have to model - and teach our kids - how to lean into gratitude for what we do have instead of fixating on what we wish we had. Many of us have received an invitation for a shabbat meal only to show up and find we don’t like the food being served or we don’t want to socialize with the other guests at the table. We can kvetch about these elements, or we can feel grateful that we have been invited into the community and that we are being served a warm meal that we didn't have to cook. So too, when our children express upset that they didn’t receive the pair of expensive Nikes they wanted, it’s our job to help them name the things for which they do feel grateful. And not in a lecture (as I am wont to do) – rather, we ward off entitlement when we let our kids authentically share their disappointment and their gratitude.  

But gratitude alone is not necessarily enough. I can feel grateful for what I have and still feel I have the right to more. Another essential skill to develop is perspective-taking. We can all become myopic in the way we see the world. In those moments when we feel ourselves activated, upset by a perceived unfairness or anger at something that is lacking, we can break down the narratives in our head. When my kids complain that our vacation isn’t as extravagant as they wish it were, I can ask them to step back and consider why we chose this particular vacation. When the Trader Joe’s employee won’t accept my bakery returns, I can step into their shoes and wonder if they have had bad experiences with customers that day, if they are trying to protect their bottom line, if they have recently been stuck with too many bakery goods. It’s essential that we stretch ourselves to understand narratives beyond our own. 

And finally, especially as we think about Hanukkah and the presents our kids want but won’t receive, I think about how we bring God and Jewish values into these spaces. I know families who dedicate one night of Hanukkah to allocating tzedakah, turning the money they would have spent on gifts into a shared act of giving. Another friend builds volunteer work into their Hanukkah, helping their kids see a broader situation to highlight how lucky they are. And a third friend builds in “Hanukkah debates” – her kids are asked to share their perspective on different questions, like which miracle of Hanukkah feels most relevant to them. In this way, they bring God and the stories of our people from thousands of years ago into their living room, bringing meaning and perspective into their celebrations. 

This work is really hard. It’s hard for us as individuals, when we feel like the situation is unfair or less than we deserve. And it’s hard to teach our children. After I have spent a long day working, hearing my kids complain about what they don’t have can send me into a tailspin, worrying that my kids are spoiled or entitled or, simply, brats. But it’s in these moments - both for us as individuals as well as us as parents - that we have the chance to reinforce our family’s values, to consider the humans we want to be and the human beings we want to raise. Because while eight nights of presents might feel magical, the real miracle is in raising kids who can handle a “no” without a meltdown—and maybe even thank you for what they do have. If we can teach them that life doesn’t always hand out refunds or fancy vacations, we just might save the world from a future full of Trader Joe’s tantrums.