This is a true story of a harsh but not neccessarily fair thing that I did about 20 odd years ago. I was reminded of it by one of the posters here,wc2, who is having problems with one of his teenage kids.
Although we laugh and joke a lot on here, I also believe we do feel the pain wc2.
It's not fashionable to smack your kids these days, in fact I think it's forbidden, but twenty odd years ago is was acceptable, expected even. I told all my kids I would smack them for three things, running across the road without looking, talking or going off with strangers and being cheeky or lippy to me.
I guess I picked these three things because they are the three things I have always been most afraid of. My hope was that I would only ever have to smack each kid three times, that they would learn from the first one and that is how it panned out , more or less.
My first child, a daughter, went through the usual childhood, stuff. I taught her to cross the road. I told her what might happen if she ran out without looking, and I told her that on top of that, I would wallop her. Sure enough I saw her one day aged 7, running into the road. 'Come in here now'. She was very scared, whallop. She never ran into the road again. 'And dont talk to any strangers or other weirdos'
She was in a sulk and didnt say a word to me for two days. Her aunty was visiting and asked her what the problem was, she looked at me 'I am not allowed to talk to weirdos'. grr. I suppose I could have got her under article 3 by adding a sub clause, but I figured that by making the legislation overly complicated it would become more burdonsome to administer. So I smiled and let it slide.
Then she started asking for a fork an knife at tea time. I pretended not to notice.
Twenty odd years ago I got my first proper job, working as a business analyst for a service company. My daughter was fourteen and so she could look after herself whilst I was at work. Then I met a bird and moved in with her and her daughter and life moved along quite nicely. After a few months I had paid off all my debts and started saving for my daughters birthday.
She had not had much in her life , but now I got her a real good push bike. She was the envy of the street, it had gears and everything, she was the happiest I had ever seen her.
One day, a few weeks later, I was driving home from work and zoooom!
a kid rode off the pavement on a bike, right in front of me, I saw the little red head and I went incandescant. Fourteen is too old to put your daughter over your knee and smack (unless you are an Austrian) so I ranted and raved. 'Next time I will get a hacksaw and cut it up into bits'
A week later it happened again. I parked up, told her to go to bed, then took the bike. She came out and followed me down the street wailing, but I made her go home. Walked a mile to the canal and chucked it in.
I dont know if it was right or wrong, hey ho. She is my best friend now and I am totally impressed by her, so things turned out ok in the end.
Although we laugh and joke a lot on here, I also believe we do feel the pain wc2.
It's not fashionable to smack your kids these days, in fact I think it's forbidden, but twenty odd years ago is was acceptable, expected even. I told all my kids I would smack them for three things, running across the road without looking, talking or going off with strangers and being cheeky or lippy to me.
I guess I picked these three things because they are the three things I have always been most afraid of. My hope was that I would only ever have to smack each kid three times, that they would learn from the first one and that is how it panned out , more or less.
My first child, a daughter, went through the usual childhood, stuff. I taught her to cross the road. I told her what might happen if she ran out without looking, and I told her that on top of that, I would wallop her. Sure enough I saw her one day aged 7, running into the road. 'Come in here now'. She was very scared, whallop. She never ran into the road again. 'And dont talk to any strangers or other weirdos'
She was in a sulk and didnt say a word to me for two days. Her aunty was visiting and asked her what the problem was, she looked at me 'I am not allowed to talk to weirdos'. grr. I suppose I could have got her under article 3 by adding a sub clause, but I figured that by making the legislation overly complicated it would become more burdonsome to administer. So I smiled and let it slide.
Then she started asking for a fork an knife at tea time. I pretended not to notice.
Twenty odd years ago I got my first proper job, working as a business analyst for a service company. My daughter was fourteen and so she could look after herself whilst I was at work. Then I met a bird and moved in with her and her daughter and life moved along quite nicely. After a few months I had paid off all my debts and started saving for my daughters birthday.
She had not had much in her life , but now I got her a real good push bike. She was the envy of the street, it had gears and everything, she was the happiest I had ever seen her.
One day, a few weeks later, I was driving home from work and zoooom!
a kid rode off the pavement on a bike, right in front of me, I saw the little red head and I went incandescant. Fourteen is too old to put your daughter over your knee and smack (unless you are an Austrian) so I ranted and raved. 'Next time I will get a hacksaw and cut it up into bits'
A week later it happened again. I parked up, told her to go to bed, then took the bike. She came out and followed me down the street wailing, but I made her go home. Walked a mile to the canal and chucked it in.
I dont know if it was right or wrong, hey ho. She is my best friend now and I am totally impressed by her, so things turned out ok in the end.
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