I haven’t read Sheryl Sandberg’s book, and I probably won’t because books that are intended to be motivational often have the opposite effect on me, but the feedback among women who don’t neglect their blogs the way I do has ranged from “easy for her to say” to outright rage (whether they’ve read the book or not).

My uninformed opinion regarding the backlash against Sandberg’s book (and to Sandberg herself, to a large degree) is that anyone who is perceived to be telling women, especially mothers, what else they ought to be doing is kind of asking for it. I can’t be the only one who routine thinks (and often utters): “If one more person asks me to do one more thing, so help me god I’m going to ______.”

Sandberg appeared on The Daily Show last night, and I mostly liked what she had to say. It was positive and encouraging; the message seemed to be that women’s perspectives are crucial in business and government. No argument there.

But in distinguishing between the messages we send to boys and girls, she blundered:

“You won’t hear little boys called ‘bossy’ because we expect boys to be assertive and lead…rather than call our little girls ‘bossy’ we should say ‘My daughter has executive leadership skills.’”

Whoa. Whoa, whoa, WHOA.

Bossiness does not equate to leadership skills, executive or otherwise. Not even in elementary school. (Sandberg’s older child is eight, I believe.) Bossy children may get others to follow them through intimidation, but that’s not leadership.

Same applies to bossy adults. I’ve had supervisors whom I obeyed; they weren’t leaders. Likewise, when I’ve supervised others, exerting that positional authority was a last resort. Being a project manager required an especially diplomatic approach: I had no positional authority over my team, merely influence built on good relationships and respectful discussions.

Even as a parent, I don’t subscribe to the “Because I’m the mom, that’s why!” school of discipline. When my kids ask why, I give them a good reason. Sometimes they have a good counterargument, and we compromise.

That’s not to say I think kids ought to speak up; on the contrary, they should engage in respectful discussion, whether with their peers, parents, or authority figures. I encourage my kids to take questions directly to their teachers and coaches, and when they have a problem with a peer or a sibling, I expect them to try to work it out on their own first. And while I don’t call my kids out for being bossy to each other (even though they certainly can be), I do remind them that they must be kind.

One does not need to make others feel bad in order to be heard. One leads most effectively when others want to be led.

(In the course of writing this post I’ve engaged in negotiations as to why one child ought to tear herself away from Netflix to make a grilled cheese sandwich for another child, and I’ve reminded the sandwich-eater multiple times not to antagonize her brother for no reason other than to get a rise out of him. All while being calm and not raising my voice, which is one of the hardest things you can ask of a mother.)