The week before last, Darius spit on a little girl at school. They were sitting across from one another and she did something he didn't like. So he spit on her. On her face. When I arrived at the school for pick-up, his teacher made a bee-line to me. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't fathom that my sweet child would do something so utterly disrespectful like spit in another child's face. His friend's face. I was so livid that you could see the smoke coming out of my ears.
When we arrived home, I couldn't even stand to look at him. So I sent him to bed. Straight to bed. No dinner, no shower, no changing into pajamas, no books, no cup of warm milk. I couldn't believe that my child had done something like this. I knew that I was over-reacting. I knew that the punishment shouldn't involve depriving him of food. But I was so pissed off, it was all I could do to not blow up. To not scream and shout and potentially strangle him.
Darius took his punishment without a fight. He walked with his head down into his bedroom and stayed there. He knew what he did was wrong. He said sorry a million times. But he had to learn that "sorry" doesn't cut it. Sorry doesn't change the course of events. Sorry doesn't wipe out consequences.
I didn't sleep that night. I was ridden with guilt. I was afraid that I may have broken his spirit a little. I mean, the kid isn't even four. And I gave him a punishment that was far too mature for a child. But even more afraid of giving a punishment that was too harsh, I was more afraid of not. Of not disciplining, of letting him think he could get away with it, of brushing it off as normal, or "boys can be boys."
And then I heard of this story on the radio. A 10 year old boy playing with matches who started one of the LA fires last month which destroyed people's livelihoods and thousands of acres of land. And I wonder how his parents are dealing with that doozie. It makes my son's spit in the face seem inconsequential. I couldn't imagine being that boy's mother. I couldn't imagine hearing a confession from my child that he was playing with matches and it got out of control. I couldn't imagine how I would handle that one. Or would I be too busy protecting him from the potential criminal and civil suits that would be sure to follow.
I know that parenting includes dealing with these tough moments. I know that this won't be the last time that my son's behavior is less than stellar. And I know that I have to learn how to deal out a fair punishment. But right now. Right this very moment, I'm grateful that we could handle our issue with a sincere apology letter. I'm grateful that there is no media coverage or talk of prosecution over my son's lapse in judgment.
I'm grateful that I'm not the parent of the 10-year old boy whose curiosity killed more than just the cat.
