“That goes along with the philosophy of the Dog Whisperer,” the host added. Brenna Hicks, a child therapist in Palm Harbor, Fla., who writes an advice blog, The Kid Counselor, adapted Mr. Millan’s central idea, that dogs take their cues from their masters, and misbehave only when the masters fail to carry themselves, in body language and tone of voice, like pack leaders. In a post, “Raising Kids: Wisdom From the Dog Whisperer,” she wrote, “When we present nervous, angry or scared energy in front of our kids, they pick up on those emotions.”

Allison Pearson, author of the novel “I Don’t Know How She Does It,” which explored the stresses of modern motherhood, explained how parents would naturally envy the authority of dog trainers. “My generation got itself in a muddle about parenting,” she wrote by e-mail. “We thought that obedience was the enemy of love. We didn’t want the kids to be afraid of us, but after a while we found ourselves wondering: do we have to do what they say the whole time?”

“Unlike modern parents,” she added, “dog trainers don’t think discipline equals being mean. They understand that dogs are happiest when they know their position in the hierarchy.”

So is it “spare the rolled-up newspaper, spoil the child?” Not exactly. Many Dog Whisperer techniques  say, the push on the neck to get a dog’s attention  are best left to the kennel, unless you welcome a visit from Child Protective Services.

But other measures may yield an obedient child. Matthew Hranek, a photographer in New York, has a daughter, Clara, who is 6, and a Patterdale terrier, Charlie, who is a handful. Lately, Mr. Hranek said, he finds himself adopting Mr. Millan’s trademark “sshht!” sound  meant to snap dogs out of unconstructive patterns of thought or behavior  not just when Charlie jumps up on the kitchen counter, but also when Clara does. A bit of a joke? Sure. But it’s efficient. With none of the usual red-in-the-face parental haranguing, it reminds her who is boss in a syllable.