(Love your children, discipline them; Love your wife, leave her)
Or something to that effect…
They were the epitome of a modern family. The wife was tall and beautiful and stylishly dressed in her caftan-style top and her well-cut slacks. The husband was equally tall, good-looking enough that any girl would have turned to have a second look. He was casually dressed in jeans and polo shirt. They each held the hand of a small boy. The husband was holding the older son, probably 8 or 9 years of age. The wife was holding the younger son who looked to be around 6 or 7.
They were crossing the short distance between a shopping complex to the nearby shop houses. The sons found the hustle and bustle of the night fascinating. They kept looking around in awe, curious about all they see and hear.
A car nearby honked loudly and the older boy turned to look. His steps slowed and he lingered for a fraction of a second, not noticing another car making its way slowly towards him and his family. He was jerked suddenly by his father and found himself safe at the pavement of the shop house.
The older boy turned to look at the car but his father’s angry voice caught his attention. He stiffened. “Kenak kau?” his father asked. What’s wrong with you?
“Sik mauk dengar kelaka bapak agik kah?” Don’t want to listen to me anymore, is that it?
The older boy held back but his father had a firm grip on his wrist. The father continued to scold him in harsh and sharp tones. The older boy tried to pull his hand away but his father became angrier. Before he knew it, he felt his father’s other hand smack him on the side of his head. His head jerked back.
The wife stopped short. She tried not to check if anyone was looking. Her younger son was pulling at her hand. He seemed terrified of his father. He strained at his mother’s grip, not willing to take a step nearer. He pulled harder and jerked visibly when his father happened to glance at him. At first, he refused to continue walking. Only his fear of his father’s anger was stronger than his instincts to run.
The father now had a grip on his older son’s arm. His body stiff with fury and his manner curt, he led his family to the nearby pizza restaurant. They sat in one of the booths. The two sons sat in their seats, trying to be as physically away from their father as possible while still being in the booth. Minutes later, the older son was made to sit next to his father but he shrank into the farthest corner possible….
Sometimes, we need to wonder: Where does discipline end and abuse begin?
Or something to that effect…
They were the epitome of a modern family. The wife was tall and beautiful and stylishly dressed in her caftan-style top and her well-cut slacks. The husband was equally tall, good-looking enough that any girl would have turned to have a second look. He was casually dressed in jeans and polo shirt. They each held the hand of a small boy. The husband was holding the older son, probably 8 or 9 years of age. The wife was holding the younger son who looked to be around 6 or 7.
They were crossing the short distance between a shopping complex to the nearby shop houses. The sons found the hustle and bustle of the night fascinating. They kept looking around in awe, curious about all they see and hear.
A car nearby honked loudly and the older boy turned to look. His steps slowed and he lingered for a fraction of a second, not noticing another car making its way slowly towards him and his family. He was jerked suddenly by his father and found himself safe at the pavement of the shop house.
The older boy turned to look at the car but his father’s angry voice caught his attention. He stiffened. “Kenak kau?” his father asked. What’s wrong with you?
“Sik mauk dengar kelaka bapak agik kah?” Don’t want to listen to me anymore, is that it?
The older boy held back but his father had a firm grip on his wrist. The father continued to scold him in harsh and sharp tones. The older boy tried to pull his hand away but his father became angrier. Before he knew it, he felt his father’s other hand smack him on the side of his head. His head jerked back.
The wife stopped short. She tried not to check if anyone was looking. Her younger son was pulling at her hand. He seemed terrified of his father. He strained at his mother’s grip, not willing to take a step nearer. He pulled harder and jerked visibly when his father happened to glance at him. At first, he refused to continue walking. Only his fear of his father’s anger was stronger than his instincts to run.
The father now had a grip on his older son’s arm. His body stiff with fury and his manner curt, he led his family to the nearby pizza restaurant. They sat in one of the booths. The two sons sat in their seats, trying to be as physically away from their father as possible while still being in the booth. Minutes later, the older son was made to sit next to his father but he shrank into the farthest corner possible….
Sometimes, we need to wonder: Where does discipline end and abuse begin?
2:58 am |
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