I’m a dad to an almost-four-year-old and a two-year-old. They are a mess; but, I love them. Each and every moment I get to spend with them, I cherish. Most of the time they fill our lives with love, laughter, and the occasional poopy diaper. However, as all parents know, sometimes their behavior must result in some discipline.
A couple of months ago I was pulling daddy daycare duty while my wife was at work on the night shift. It was bathtime at the Frye house after a long day of school and playing at home. My kids love to bathe together while playing with toys and bubbles. My daughter, Ruby, is all about those bubbles. She loves them so much that most nights she tries to eat them. I wish I was joking. My son, Charlie, loves to play with his little boat and jetski when he’s not causing a ruckus making us laugh.
Well, during this one particular bathtime, my son was pushing some boundaries. He kept pushing his sister with his feet toward the spout of the bathtub. Not wanting him to hurt her I told him not to do that because it wasn’t nice. He said okay and less than a minute later did the same thing. He pushed his sister with his feet. I told him that if he did it again, he was getting a pop. A ‘pop’ is what we call a miniature spanking. It’s like a little slap on the leg, arm, or wherever we can reach.
Yeah, we spank our kids. We discipline them they disobey, are doing something that could hurt them, or when they need an attitude adjustment.
No, they don’t get spanked every day. I hate spanking them, but it’s what we do to teach our kids right from wrong.
Back to the story.
Charlie continued to push his sister with his feet. After two warnings, I popped his arm. Not hard. Just a pop. He stopped what he was doing and left his sister alone. Problem solved.
The next morning after getting ready and eating breakfast, I loaded Ruby into her car seat first and then started putting Charlie into his. As I was buckling him up, he looked at me, out of the blue and asked, “Daddy, why do you hit me?”
Shocked. Stunned. Punched right in the heart.
I looked at him and said, “Buddy, I don’t hit you. I spank you to discipline you when you don’t listen”. I told him that I loved him and locked him in the seat. As we drove to school, the kids watched their movie in the backseat while I steered the truck, still, shell shocked from the question.
My wife came home from work, we ate breakfast and she went to bed. Meanwhile, my heart and brain sat on that question from my son all day.
“Daddy, why do you hit me?”
The time came to go pick up the kids from daycare so I grabbed a few things and headed out the door. Wanting to be an awesome dad, I stopped by Burger King to purchase the kids a kids’ meal. They love the fries. While waiting in line, I called my mom on the phone.
I began to tell her the story of the night before. Charlie kicking Ruby. Him getting a pop. Then, telling her the question that he asked that rocked me to my core.
“Daddy, why do you hit me?”
As soon as I got the story out of my mouth, I broke down into tears. I cried like I haven’t cried for a long time. One could classify it as ‘snot-bubble crying’. It was legit. There were real tears and real sobs. I was broken.
My mother listened and encouraged me that I was a good father. The kids needed discipline. She even reminded me of a Bible verse in the book of Hebrews chapter twelve that says…
"5...My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor be weary when reproved by him. 6 For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives.”
That did encourage me. God disciplines us because He loves us. I discipline my kids because I love them. Sure, it made sense.
After talking with my mom I went to pick up my kids, feeling better about the question from my son that morning. I picked my daughter up first and she was happy as usual to see me! She ran up to me screaming in elation that her daddy was there to get her.
I headed to my son’s room thinking that he was going to be upset with me. Even at four, my son is a smart kid. I just knew he was going to have a little weariness about loving me the same as he did before the bathtub popping.
To my surprise, when I opened the door to his room, he came to me at a full sprint. He wrapped his arms around my legs and gave me the biggest hug he’d given me in some time. Boy was I happy. My little buddy still loved me.
As I put him in his car seat, I told him something I’d been wanting to tell him all day. I told him that I loved him and his sister more than anything in this world. I told him that I would do anything in the world for him. But I also told him that sometimes he needed discipline. The times when he didn’t listen, or when he hurt his sister, or when he was doing something to get himself hurt...he would need some discipline. Sometimes that discipline would be a pop or a spank, but most times it would just be a warning. But most importantly, I told him that I discipline him and his sister because I loved them.
Do you know what he said? He said, “I love you too, daddy”.
My heart melted again.
Whew, that was a day that I’ll never forget. And I’ll never forget the question that rocked me.
Without a great transition, here’s what I learned from this situation. It’s okay to discipline your children. You’re not going to like it. Your kids aren’t going to like it. But it must be done. How you discipline is up to you. This is what I will take from this experience, before and/or after I discipline my kids, I must explain to them why they are being punished. Without an explanation of my actions, they can (and most often) misunderstand my intentions.
I intend to help them become wonderful, self-controlled, well behaved, and loving people. To do that, I have to try my best to be a wonderful, self-controlled, well behaved, and loving dad.
Happy FRYEday!