My children are perfect.

Not in the way most parents mean it — not the “oh, little Jayden scored a goal” or “Emma made the honor roll” kind of perfect. No. My children are perfect in the truest, most measurable, most government-certified sense of the word. They are compliant. They are efficient. They are quiet, orderly, form-literate citizens who can complete a 1040-EZ in under four minutes, recite the tax code through Title 26, Subtitle A, and identify all 15 Cabinet departments in alphabetical order before breakfast.

They cannot ride a bicycle. They have never climbed a tree. They do not know what a “playdate” is. But they can calculate adjusted gross income in their heads, and honestly, which skill is going to serve them better in the long run?

My name is Janet Mandate — Citizen-Parent #1, as my children address me — and I am here to tell you that the single best parenting decision I ever made was to stop making parenting decisions entirely and let the federal government handle everything.

How It Began

It started, as all great parenting journeys do, with a pamphlet.

In 2016, shortly after my second child was born, I received a glossy tri-fold brochure in the mail from the Department of Health and Human Services titled: “Parenting Is Hard. We’re the Government. Let Us Help.” The cover showed a smiling family sitting around a dinner table, reading what appeared to be a regulatory document. They looked so happy. So organized. So free from the crippling doubt that attends every parenting decision made without federal oversight.

Inside, the pamphlet described a pilot program called the Comprehensive Childhood Development and Compliance Initiative (CCDCI), which offered participating families “full-spectrum developmental support from birth through age 18, including nutritional planning, educational curriculum, behavioral frameworks, recreational scheduling, and values alignment, all designed and administered by trained federal professionals.”

My husband — Citizen-Parent #2 — was skeptical. “Shouldn’t we raise our own children?” he asked, with the naivety of a man who had never tried to get a toddler to eat broccoli.

I showed him the brochure’s testimonial section. One parent wrote: “Before CCDCI, I spent every evening arguing with my kids about homework. Now the government handles homework. My evenings are free. I’ve taken up pottery.”

We enrolled the next day.

The Early Years: Birth Through Five

The CCDCI assigned our family a Childhood Development Coordinator (CDC) — a GS-12 federal employee named Brenda, who arrived at our home with a clipboard, a rolling suitcase of developmental materials, and the serene confidence of someone who has read every parenting book ever published and rejected them all in favor of federal guidelines.

Brenda’s first act was to remove all non-approved toys from our home. Gone were the building blocks (“unstructured play encourages independent thinking, which complicates compliance later”), the coloring books (“creative expression outside approved parameters risks ideological deviation”), and the stuffed animals (“emotional attachment to non-governmental entities creates loyalty conflicts”).

In their place, Brenda provided a set of CCDCI-Approved Developmental Tools:

• A toy cash register — for early financial literacy and tax familiarization
• A set of rubber stamps — for practicing form processing
• Flash cards featuring Cabinet departments — for departmental recognition
• A plush IRS eagle — for comfort and ideological alignment. Its name was “Audie,” short for “Audit.” My children loved Audie. They hugged Audie every night. Audie’s eyes seemed to follow you around the room, but Brenda assured us this was a feature, not a defect.

My children’s first words were, in order: “form,” “compliance,” “filing,” and “mama.” I’ll admit I was slightly disappointed that “mama” came fourth, but Brenda explained that the CCDCI developmental sequence prioritizes bureaucratic vocabulary, and that “mama” would be formally introduced in Phase 3 of the Familial Recognition Module. She was right. By 18 months, both children could say “mama” with confidence and proper diction, though they occasionally followed it with “pending approval.”

Education: The Federal Curriculum

At age five, my children entered the CCDCI educational track, which replaced traditional schooling with what the program calls “Compliance-Integrated Learning” (CIL).

The curriculum is rigorous. A typical school day includes:

• 8:00 AM — Morning Pledge: Children recite the Pledge of Regulatory Allegiance: “I pledge compliance to the Code of the United States of Regulation, and to the bureaucracy for which it stands, one process, under oversight, with forms and filing for all.”

• 8:15 AM — Tax Mathematics: Standard math instruction, but every problem involves taxation. “If Johnny earns $50 mowing lawns and is in the 12% marginal tax bracket, how much does Johnny owe in federal income tax? Show your work. Attach Schedule C.”

• 9:30 AM — Civics (Advanced Regulatory Studies): Children learn the structure, function, and acronym of every federal agency. By age eight, my son could name all 440+ federal agencies. He cannot name more than three dinosaurs, but as Brenda pointed out, “dinosaurs are extinct. Agencies are forever.”

• 10:45 AM — Physical Compliance Education: A regulated activity period in which children practice standing in line, sitting quietly in waiting rooms, and walking at approved pedestrian speeds. There is no running. Running is unregulated locomotion and creates liability issues.

• 12:00 PM — Lunch: Provided by the Nutrition Board. Monday through Friday: chicken breast (4 oz), steamed vegetables (1 cup), whole grain roll (1), and milk (8 oz). The menu has not changed in nine years. My children do not complain. They have never been taught that menus can change.

• 1:00 PM — Form Literacy: The cornerstone of the curriculum. Children practice filling out increasingly complex government forms, beginning with simple name-and-address forms in kindergarten and progressing to multi-schedule tax returns by sixth grade. My daughter completed her first mock 1040 at age nine. She scored a 98%. The two-point deduction was for penmanship, which she corrected within a week through a remedial handwriting program administered by the Bureau of Standardized Script.

• 2:30 PM — Quiet Compliance Hour: Children sit at their desks in silence, practicing “regulatory mindfulness” — a state of calm, focused awareness in which the mind is emptied of all non-compliant thoughts. My son describes this hour as “peaceful.” My daughter describes it as “mandatory.” Both are correct.

Family Life Under the CCDCI

Our home has been transformed by the program. What was once a chaotic household full of spontaneous play, unscheduled conversations, and the wild unpredictability of childhood is now a calm, ordered, fully optimized living environment that runs with the smooth efficiency of a federal office on a Friday afternoon — which is to say, very slowly, but with absolute certainty about what’s happening.

Family dinners are structured. Each evening at 6:00 PM, we sit at the table and read aloud from the Federal Register. This is not a punishment. It is, according to the CCDCI handbook, “a family bonding activity designed to integrate regulatory awareness into the domestic routine.” We take turns. My son reads Mondays and Wednesdays. My daughter reads Tuesdays and Thursdays. Citizen-Parent #2 reads Fridays. I read weekends.

“Today we will be reading from Volume 89, Number 214, covering proposed amendments to the Clean Water Act’s effluent guidelines for the meat and poultry products point source category,” my daughter announced at dinner last Tuesday, with the practiced authority of a C-SPAN anchor. She is twelve.

“Excellent diction,” I said.

“Thank you, Citizen-Parent #1,” she replied.

Conversation at dinner is limited to topics from the Approved Family Discussion List, which is updated quarterly by our CDC, Brenda. Approved topics include: recent regulatory changes, upcoming filing deadlines, the organizational structure of the Department of the Treasury, and “how grateful we are.” Unapproved topics include: feelings, dreams, imagination, and “why can’t we get a dog?” (The CCDCI pet policy requires a 47-page application, an environmental impact assessment, and proof that the animal has been cleared by the Bureau of Domestic Fauna. We started the process in 2021. It is pending.)

Bedtime stories have been replaced by bedtime readings. Each night, I read my children a chapter from IRS Publication 17, Your Federal Income Tax. We are currently on Chapter 12: “Business Income.” My son’s favorite chapter is Chapter 5: “Filing Status.” My daughter prefers Chapter 10: “Itemized Deductions.” When they were younger and afraid of the dark, I would comfort them by reading the instructions for Schedule SE (Self-Employment Tax). Something about the repetitive, methodical language of self-employment tax calculations would soothe them into sleep within minutes.

“Tell me about estimated quarterly payments,” my son once whispered, his eyes heavy.

“The year is divided into four payment periods,” I began. “Each period has a specific payment due date…”

He was asleep by the second quarter.

What My Children Can and Cannot Do

By the metrics that matter — the government’s metrics — my children are thriving. Here is a comprehensive assessment:

Things my children CAN do:

• Complete a 1040-EZ in 3 minutes and 47 seconds (personal best)
• Recite the tax code through Subtitle A
• Name all 15 Cabinet departments, their secretaries, and their approximate budgets
• Fill out any federal form with zero errors
• Stand in line for up to 4 hours without complaint
• Calculate withholding in their heads
• Identify the correct form for any life event (marriage: Form 1040 status change; home purchase: Schedule A; death: Form 706)
• Explain the difference between a tax credit and a tax deduction to a confused adult
• Sit in a waiting room in perfect silence
• Address all authority figures by their GS classification

Things my children CANNOT do:

• Ride a bicycle (not in the curriculum; classified as “unregulated two-wheeled transit”)
• Climb a tree (liability concerns; no waiver available)
• Swim (the aquatic activities permit has been in processing since 2020)
• Make toast (kitchen appliance operation requires completion of the Home Appliance Safety Certification, which is only available to citizens 16 and older)
• Tell a joke (humor is categorized as “spontaneous verbal output” and is not covered by the CCDCI communication framework)
• Name a single constellation (astronomy is not a federal department)
• Express a preference for anything not on an approved list
• Use the word “why” (removed from their vocabulary in Phase 2; replaced with “as per guidelines”)

The Unauthorized Thought Incident

I should address the incident. Every CCDCI family has one, and pretending otherwise would be dishonest.

In 2024, my son — then age 11 — came home from school and said something that sent a chill through the household. He said: “I wonder what it would be like to choose my own lunch.”

The room went silent. My daughter dropped her flash cards. Citizen-Parent #2 looked up from the Federal Register. Even Audie the plush IRS eagle seemed to narrow its already narrow eyes.

An independent thought. An unauthorized independent thought. About lunch, of all things.

I called Brenda immediately. She arrived within the hour with a Cognitive Realignment Specialist (CRS) — a gentle, soft-spoken woman named Dr. Pam who sat with my son for 45 minutes and guided him through a series of exercises designed to redirect independent curiosity toward approved channels.

“You don’t need to choose your lunch,” Dr. Pam explained, holding his hand. “The Nutrition Board has already chosen the optimal lunch for your age, weight, and developmental stage. Choosing your own lunch would mean the Nutrition Board failed. And we don’t want the Nutrition Board to feel like a failure, do we?”

My son shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dr. Pam said warmly. “Be compliant.”

He has not had an unauthorized thought since. Or if he has, he hasn’t mentioned it, which amounts to the same thing.

A Proud Citizen-Parent

People ask me if I have regrets. If I ever wish my children had a “normal” childhood — one with birthday parties and bike rides and spontaneous laughter and the messy, beautiful, unregulated chaos of growing up human.

I consider the question carefully. Then I answer: “My children can file taxes perfectly. Can yours?”

The silence that follows is always deeply satisfying.

My children may not know what a playground is. They may address me with a bureaucratic designation instead of “Mom.” They may have never experienced the simple joy of doing something for no reason at all, with no form to fill out and no compliance officer to approve it. But they are prepared — magnificently, thoroughly, comprehensively prepared — for a life of citizenship in a nation that loves them so much it planned every moment of their existence.

And when they turn 18 and file their first real tax return — not a practice one, not a mock one, but a real, legally binding, consequences-if-you-get-it-wrong return — I will stand behind them, my hand on their shoulder, tears in my eyes, and I will say: “I’m so proud of you.”

And they will say: “Thank you, Citizen-Parent #1. Your emotional expression has been noted and logged.”

And it will be the most beautiful moment of my life.

Madison Mandate is Government Is Love’s Family and Childhood Compliance Correspondent. She does not have children but has completed the CCDCI informational module and scored in the 94th percentile on the Theoretical Parenting Assessment. She is pre-approved for up to two dependents, pending spousal acquisition and a 16-page Family Formation Authorization Request.