I just threw that damned red Corvette into the trash outside. And when he didn't seem upset enough about it, I told him it was going to be taken away in the garbage truck, and he was never going to see it again.
The words going through my head were: cruel and unusual. But I'd threatened to do it, and I couldn't go back on it. That's the thing about teaching a kid; if you let them think they can get away with it, they will every time.
It doesn't make sense to me though. I must've done a lot of bad stuff growing up because what I remember most is the spankings, the preceding dread and the proceeding hatred. But I also remember thinking my parents' word was law. It never occurred to me that they weren't in charge. The Bug never went there. And until late last year, I admired it. I admit it: when he'd rebel against me, do things his own way, I got after him but I also dug it. I always wanted the kid to have his own mind. Until I found out that it would make him impossible to have out in public.
I'm not some tattooed hipster talking about my kid's freedom or whatever either. I'm hard on him (see above). I threw out that Corvette because I knew it would break his heart. Spankings and time outs don't phase him, but he'll remember that Corvette hitting the trash bin for awhile. And the next time I threaten it, I hope he'll turn his attitude around.
But god. It sucks.
posted by Samus @ 12:52 PM
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