Choices, Choices

I’ve raised my children to understand they have a choice in all things. Some would argue this is not true in a circumstance where someone held a gun to his/her head. But I would disagree. Even then, there is a choice. It’s all about weighing your options and calculating if the consequences are worth the choice. Every child will test the boundaries of a parent’s mercy and resolve. It is an important part of growing up.

This week, I had to enforce law with a child that is becoming a man. Real men make solid decisions and stand by them and the punishment or reward associated with them. Turmoil related in terms of negative outcome is one sure sign your son is only a few steps from adulthood. The child within him will fight against accountability, while the wisdom garnered from one too many trips to the woodshed accepts that fighting it will only make the punishment longer and harder.

I’m not my child’s friend. I am one of two leaders, and as such I demand respect in all things. This is an honor I have earned through years of puke, snot and temper tantrums. Simply put…I rate. So when my almost-legal-to-vote son ignores me, raises his voice, snarls his lip, rolls his eyes, or any other disrespect associated with a punk, he has two choices.

Take his punishment like a man or hit the road.

Basically, I am of the opinion that the day my child thinks he can do any of those things without swift punishment is the day he can house and feed himself. I have neither the desire or inclination to produce a worthless almost-adult that thinks this world worships the ground he walks on. In the case of my son, it was really over something trivial. He was unable to shutty and an escalation of stupid choices in rapid succession.

When they reach his age, discipline becomes an art of finding the things that they love the most to take away. My son has been growing his lovely golden locks with Fabio dreams and several trips to the mirror each day. So when he couldn’t shut it and think, I warned him if he said one more thing I was cutting it off. I think he thought I was bluffing. He should know better. That’s betting against the house and this house happens to be a bit crazy.

Details are irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, but results speak volumes. Take the hair cut or hit the road. My son pondered for several hours all his options. Finally, he manned up and took his punishment, realizing he wasn’t quite ready for the big world.

And before anyone says my child is awful, let me say that every child I’ve ever known displays different levels of stupid. I am rather fond of my offspring. Only I may take them to the woodshed and then hug them afterward. Plus, hair grows back. He’ll think twice the next time he makes a choice to bet against this crazy house. Good times.

Peace, love and God’s will.

**Disclaimer** The picture above is not my son. I did not do this sort of cut. But I promise if he takes the same tone with me ever again, I will. I think he believes me. 😉