Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child?

This is something the parents in my family never paused to contemplate. They just went ahead and disciplined (i.e. hit) us Every. Single. Time. Consequently, I spent a good deal of my childhood trying to find ingenious places to hide the cane or feather duster. However most of the time, Mimi was more ingenious and improvises. A long time ago I was disillusioned of how the perfect parents were supposed to act.

"It is a universal part of the human condition that we must heal wounds from our past. The illusion of perfect parents must eventually give way to the realities of who our parents are as concrete individuals. Their limitations invariably become our own, in one way or another, and their struggles with identity and self-esteem become the stumbling blocks that we find in our own lives. This is the human condition.”

This is true, we inevitably become our parents. The horror! The horror!
Sometimes, I am truly grateful for this kind of harsh discipline. But most of the time, I feel trapped in family full of NUTJOBS. Yes, madness definitely runs in the family (thankfully I managed to outrun it) ((wipe that smirk off your faces!)) and has since enabled my relations to think of more um… original ways of punishment. Last Saturday was one instance of ‘ingenuity’.

My uncle found out that my 10 year old cousin had been forging his signature on several badly done test papers. ( I know! What is the world coming to? 10 yrs old!) Moving on, this is what transpired.

Friday night:

My uncle: “Did forge my signature?” ( very loudly)

Cousin: “Nooooooooo…”

My uncle: “How many times?” ( loudly)

Cousin: “Nooooo Pa, I neverrrrrr….”

My uncle: “ Where’s the cane?” (quieter and more ominously)

Well, you can guess what happened next.

Saturday morning:

9 ish:

My uncle is on a mission to save his son’s soul. He calls a police friend and requests a favour.

10 ish:
Policemen call the house and ask for my cousin. He answers the phone and already he is scared shitless. My uncle duly brings him down to the police station as part of the plan.

11 ish:
A policeman brings my cousin into another room and castigates him, after which he brings the already shaking boy to the holding cell and makes him touch the bars to reinforce his threat of imprisoning him the next time he repeats his offence.

12 ish:
My uncle thanks the policeman and both of them share a hearty parent to parent talk about how horrible kids are nowadays while congratulating themselves on their sheer brilliance and imaginativeness.

My uncle then walks back to the car where the still petrified boy is waiting in terror.

Thoughts running through my uncle’s mind?

“Lesson learnt.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Cost of this “mission”: $10 (for the petrol to and fro)

Cost of my cousin’s future visits to the psychologist: $5000

Value of lesson learnt: Priceless.

Well I don’t know what your take on this is, but I fully approve (nods head sententiously). Parenting is a grueling job. Raising good children is even more demanding. So I guess it all boils down to whether the ends justify the means no?

“One of God's main jobs is making people. He makes these to put in the place of the ones who die so there will be enough people to take care of things here on earth. He doesn't make grownups, he just makes babies. I think because they are smaller and easier to make. That way he doesn't have to take up his valuable time teaching them to walk and talk. He can just leave that up to the mothers and fathers. I think it works out pretty good.”

Well I do too.