There is a beautiful simplicity in children. It seems to me that it is actually a whole different outlike on life that they have, and a youthful, cheerful acceptance of what goes on. Unfortunately, many people lose this childlike-ness when they grow up, when they are conditioned to anti-childlikeness (also known as realism and reality) by the all-knowing world, and when they lose hope.
Hope is one of those things that make children childlike. No matter how bad things may be, they bounce back quickly and remain cheerful, because nothing is too hopeless, because nothing seems indomitable. Despair is a strange thing to the child-like, because they believe. They believe strongly, down beneath their conscious awareness, that there really isn't anything that cannot be overcome.
When I think of childlikeness, I think of Momiji first. Then Jesus. I even think of those naughty rascalls I call my siblings. Even though I know they aren't the most carefree and cheerful younguns, I can atest to the fact that they are full of childlike hope, faith and belief. It's amazing; the things that throw me down to despair hardly daunt them. Sure, they often shed a few tears, but then they bounce back up, ready for another adventure. As for adults, it seems they choose what to believe, what to have faith in, and what to hope on. They seem frantic to keep themselves from being betrayed, hurt, or cast down. They don't want to make a mistake and believe/hope/have faith in something they will be disappointed in, so they make the mistake of not being what some people would call naive.
See, and here is the part that I think we can learn greatly from, children, childlike children, enjoy the bumps in the road. Childlikeness tries to hit all the potholes, and delight in running through puddles. Childlike childrenare thrilled with thunderstorms, play hide-and-go-seek in shadows, notice the small things in nature, and dance in the rain. Children seek adventure, and try to do the impossible.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
I Guess You Were Wondering....
...about our mystery dinner. It did go well, and I am happy to say that everyone enjoyed it. :) I can't show pictures of us all, but I did have a few that weren't of us, so...
Now I did not take many of those pictures. The other girls were using my camera quite a bit. Just so you don't think I'm a bad photographer. ^_^
The delicious macaroni salad that I concocted....
My! All those dishes!
The bean salad....
Those yummy cookies...
The lentil salad, being mixed...
The boquets the younger girls were arranging....
Some of the food...
The handy sign we used...
And the menu.
Now I did not take many of those pictures. The other girls were using my camera quite a bit. Just so you don't think I'm a bad photographer. ^_^
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Thursday, July 11, 2013
The Perfected Seating Arrangements for the Orchestra
Drcello's Perfected
Orchestral Seating Arrangement
Conductors are wont to experiment with all sorts of incorrect orchestral seating arrangements. These failures are often self-evident to cellists, who are of a higher order of intelligence, and who have a good share of plain common sense. Others in the orchestra, especially the brass, just don't get it, and are often just as confused as the conductor. In an altruistic effort to finally straighten things out, Drcello has devised the "Perfected Orchestral Seating Arrangement," which meets the needs of all instrumentalists and conductors, and which could usher in a new era of orchestral joy and harmony, if only we can get enough conductors to adopt it. Drcello is confident that the best orchestras will soon be using this arrangement, since it is obviously superior. Here is a diagram and an explanation. Please feel free to print this and distribute it widely.
Best wishes to all, "drcello."
_______________
P.S. DISCLAIMER: The Koala did not write this peice. This is the webpage from which she got it: http://www.cello.org/heaven/silly/seating.htm
An Apologetic Apology with Cheesecake
Dear friends and stalkers.
I must admit to the fact that I have been very horrible at blogging. I do apologize from the depth of my heart, and let me tell you, I have had NO intention of forgetting about you, but only I thought I had nothing to write about! Of course, that is never a good excuse, and I must apologize for even voicing that excuse, but truly, sometimes I can't do nothing else but sit and stare blankly at the screen. Now those past two posts; they were scribbled up sometime between my last post and this one, and they are no apology for such a long wait before I wrote again.
So the Koala will give you a little note of what has happened so far in her day.
First off, I was awakened at the ungodly hour of eight fifteen by a text message: "We go store." So I got up, dressed rapidly, washed my face, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, and grabbed my bag. Thus we drove in the dreary drizzle to the store, where I strolled the aisles for an hour. Upon our return home, I stuck all the groceries on the floor for my sisters to put away, and drove my Dad to the library. (Driving, by the way, is becoming more natural for me.)
Now, here at the library, I can notice everybody and do what I want (read and go on the internet) and try not to get mad at parents who loudly yell at their kids. I hate it. :(
My plan for the rest of the day is to go shopping at a more 'regular' store than our common haunt of bent and dents, then tonight I will probably make a few dishes for a dinner we are having with friends tomorrow night! That, now, will be fun. Me, my just about best friend, her two sisters, and my two sisters, will together make a large dinner for our families plus two others. It is a mystery dinner, and it will go this way. After we get all the food prepared (potato salad, macaroni salad, lentil salad, cannallinni bean salad, coleslaw, green beans, and the main dish - Zuchinni lasagna) we will - no, actually not before... We should've given all the food names already, but we couldn't decide. We do have a decision, now. It is going to be themed "Bugs". So perhaps we will name the lasagna "Centipedes" and the potato salad "grubs" and the green beans "ants". And so on. What do you think? I hate it. But we voted, and it was was three against two. So they won. My idea was to have it themed musical terms: allegro, rondo, finale, allegretto, poco, crescendo, schertzo, andante, dolce, and the like. But oh well, such is democracy. So we will go over to our friends house tomorrow, perhaps at nine o'clock, and we will set up their basement and get the food prepared. Then the people will come at five forty-five. All very good. Right?
Poor stalkers. Too bad you can't taste any of the food. We are good cooks. I am sure you will be missing out. ^_^ I guess it's good that I didn't mention what the desert is. -.-
So I'll end off with giving some pictures of the cheesecake I made for my little sister's birthday.
How you like-a?
I like-a it very much. It taste-a very good-a.
I must admit to the fact that I have been very horrible at blogging. I do apologize from the depth of my heart, and let me tell you, I have had NO intention of forgetting about you, but only I thought I had nothing to write about! Of course, that is never a good excuse, and I must apologize for even voicing that excuse, but truly, sometimes I can't do nothing else but sit and stare blankly at the screen. Now those past two posts; they were scribbled up sometime between my last post and this one, and they are no apology for such a long wait before I wrote again.
So the Koala will give you a little note of what has happened so far in her day.
First off, I was awakened at the ungodly hour of eight fifteen by a text message: "We go store." So I got up, dressed rapidly, washed my face, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, and grabbed my bag. Thus we drove in the dreary drizzle to the store, where I strolled the aisles for an hour. Upon our return home, I stuck all the groceries on the floor for my sisters to put away, and drove my Dad to the library. (Driving, by the way, is becoming more natural for me.)
Now, here at the library, I can notice everybody and do what I want (read and go on the internet) and try not to get mad at parents who loudly yell at their kids. I hate it. :(
My plan for the rest of the day is to go shopping at a more 'regular' store than our common haunt of bent and dents, then tonight I will probably make a few dishes for a dinner we are having with friends tomorrow night! That, now, will be fun. Me, my just about best friend, her two sisters, and my two sisters, will together make a large dinner for our families plus two others. It is a mystery dinner, and it will go this way. After we get all the food prepared (potato salad, macaroni salad, lentil salad, cannallinni bean salad, coleslaw, green beans, and the main dish - Zuchinni lasagna) we will - no, actually not before... We should've given all the food names already, but we couldn't decide. We do have a decision, now. It is going to be themed "Bugs". So perhaps we will name the lasagna "Centipedes" and the potato salad "grubs" and the green beans "ants". And so on. What do you think? I hate it. But we voted, and it was was three against two. So they won. My idea was to have it themed musical terms: allegro, rondo, finale, allegretto, poco, crescendo, schertzo, andante, dolce, and the like. But oh well, such is democracy. So we will go over to our friends house tomorrow, perhaps at nine o'clock, and we will set up their basement and get the food prepared. Then the people will come at five forty-five. All very good. Right?
Poor stalkers. Too bad you can't taste any of the food. We are good cooks. I am sure you will be missing out. ^_^ I guess it's good that I didn't mention what the desert is. -.-
So I'll end off with giving some pictures of the cheesecake I made for my little sister's birthday.
How you like-a?
I like-a it very much. It taste-a very good-a.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Supper Antics
The topic at the supper table last night was certainly an interesting one. Have you ever held a forum on what to do when you are on a date with someone you don't want to go out with? Well, for some odd reason, that is exactly what we were discussing.
"First off," my Dad said, "have bad breath." But, of course, that isn't very funny, and some people don't even notice that. So we had to think up better ideas.
My idea was to take a big bite of something very spittable during a funny conversation, then laugh, spitting it all over the guy in front of you. After apologizing, lean over to give him a napkin, and in so doing knock over his glass of water (if it's soda, that's even better) onto his lap. Then, lose your balance and to catch it, stick your hand down on the table - but onto his plate. It would be good if it was soup in his dish, or something else that is splashable. After that, when you are going to do a toast, drop your glass right at the moment that the two glasses are supposed to touch, then grab his glass, so that it looks like it was his glass that fell. Another good option would be to crash your glass into his, so that it breaks. ^_^
Another good idea was to go into the bathroom halfway through and dress up in some ghoulish costume (complete with mustache, false broken teeth and wig) then come back to the table and sit down. Chances are he won't recognize you, and leave the restaurant screaming. That is always an improvement. Especially if he paid beforehand; you can eat his lunch, too.
Or you could always take the menu, and go through it all, saying with a puppy-dog-like expression, "You don't care if I get this, do you? Or what about this? Can I order that?" Then don't decide on anything, and say mournfully, "Get me whatever you like." But be really unhappy with whatever he picks.
Another funny one was to go through the whole menu with the waitress, acting really high-and-mighty, (It'd be good to add a New York accent) "I think I'd like that, please, but does it have gluten in it?" If he says yes, good; move on to the next one. If he needs to ask someone, just say, "Oh nevermind. What about this? Does this have meat in? I'm a vegetarian and I really can't abide even a flavor of meat..." Then, "Do you think this has any dairy in? I try to stay dairy-free. And this, do you know whether or not this has peanuts or soy in? I have a peanut and soy allergy." The idea is to give the date an impression of you being someone who has lots of "intolerance".
Of course, you could always make frequent trips to the bathroom, or crack your knuckles, or burp loudly, or giggle like a goose... But I think it would be funny to try this; Listen to any or all the conversations around you, but definately not his. If he asks you a question, say "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't hear that." Then say a little later, when he's in the middle of saying something, "Oh did you hear that? That guy is going to the theatre tonight.." and such. It also would be neat to have a bluetooth, and all of a sudden just begin to talk to someone.
"What?" he says.
"Oh, sorry," you reply, "I'm just talking to my friend."
If he asks you if you want desert, say injuredly, "Are you saying I am fat?" If he declines desert, say "Do you have a problem with me having some?" in a real pugnatious tone. If he says he will pay for your meal, say, "Are you thinking that I eat too much for me to pay for myself?" If he tells you he works for his dad in a construction company, widen your eyes and say, "Haven't you any ambition?" And if he asks you if he can take you out again, say, "Do you have a problem with that?" If he asks if he can drive you home, tell him he can drop you off at your boyfriend's house. If he is really dumb enough to do it, then take him to the local prison. ^_^
And I'm sure you stalkers' brains can think up more. Or perhaps stalkers don't get amused by boyfriends and girlfriends having interesting dates. :/
"First off," my Dad said, "have bad breath." But, of course, that isn't very funny, and some people don't even notice that. So we had to think up better ideas.
My idea was to take a big bite of something very spittable during a funny conversation, then laugh, spitting it all over the guy in front of you. After apologizing, lean over to give him a napkin, and in so doing knock over his glass of water (if it's soda, that's even better) onto his lap. Then, lose your balance and to catch it, stick your hand down on the table - but onto his plate. It would be good if it was soup in his dish, or something else that is splashable. After that, when you are going to do a toast, drop your glass right at the moment that the two glasses are supposed to touch, then grab his glass, so that it looks like it was his glass that fell. Another good option would be to crash your glass into his, so that it breaks. ^_^
Another good idea was to go into the bathroom halfway through and dress up in some ghoulish costume (complete with mustache, false broken teeth and wig) then come back to the table and sit down. Chances are he won't recognize you, and leave the restaurant screaming. That is always an improvement. Especially if he paid beforehand; you can eat his lunch, too.
Or you could always take the menu, and go through it all, saying with a puppy-dog-like expression, "You don't care if I get this, do you? Or what about this? Can I order that?" Then don't decide on anything, and say mournfully, "Get me whatever you like." But be really unhappy with whatever he picks.
Another funny one was to go through the whole menu with the waitress, acting really high-and-mighty, (It'd be good to add a New York accent) "I think I'd like that, please, but does it have gluten in it?" If he says yes, good; move on to the next one. If he needs to ask someone, just say, "Oh nevermind. What about this? Does this have meat in? I'm a vegetarian and I really can't abide even a flavor of meat..." Then, "Do you think this has any dairy in? I try to stay dairy-free. And this, do you know whether or not this has peanuts or soy in? I have a peanut and soy allergy." The idea is to give the date an impression of you being someone who has lots of "intolerance".
Of course, you could always make frequent trips to the bathroom, or crack your knuckles, or burp loudly, or giggle like a goose... But I think it would be funny to try this; Listen to any or all the conversations around you, but definately not his. If he asks you a question, say "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't hear that." Then say a little later, when he's in the middle of saying something, "Oh did you hear that? That guy is going to the theatre tonight.." and such. It also would be neat to have a bluetooth, and all of a sudden just begin to talk to someone.
"What?" he says.
"Oh, sorry," you reply, "I'm just talking to my friend."
If he asks you if you want desert, say injuredly, "Are you saying I am fat?" If he declines desert, say "Do you have a problem with me having some?" in a real pugnatious tone. If he says he will pay for your meal, say, "Are you thinking that I eat too much for me to pay for myself?" If he tells you he works for his dad in a construction company, widen your eyes and say, "Haven't you any ambition?" And if he asks you if he can take you out again, say, "Do you have a problem with that?" If he asks if he can drive you home, tell him he can drop you off at your boyfriend's house. If he is really dumb enough to do it, then take him to the local prison. ^_^
And I'm sure you stalkers' brains can think up more. Or perhaps stalkers don't get amused by boyfriends and girlfriends having interesting dates. :/
A Bunch of Odd Stuff
"I'm running away," he blurted, his chubby face struggling to maintain its cold, hard attitude.
Oh. Oh. Why?
We were driving along home from a busy day at work. I was tired. I was happy. I was hungry; I hadn't eaten since the morning, and the casserole I had put in the oven that morning was looking more and more delicious. I hoped they had saved some for us.
We sailed around The Snake's Back, braking slightly to keep from going off the road. And as we went around the top of the S curve, we saw him. Wearily waving his arms, he plodded despairingly along towards us in the opposite lane.
"Huh. What's he doing?" I asked Mom. "Doesn't he know that he shouldn't walk there, that he might get hit?"
Mom looked in her rearview mirror. "That's odd. Do you think he was waving at us?" She slowed significantly, and turned around in a neighbor's driveway.
"I don't know," I said, a concerned feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Mom rolled down her window as she slowed down by the boy, who had stopped, staring at us, expressionless.
"Can I help you?" Mom asked.
"I'm running away."
We were silent. Shocked. What?
"Okay," Mom said, drawing out the word. "Okay. Why is that?"
"They don't want me there. My grandma hit me with a belt on my face."
"Oh." We were silent. Abuse? Or punishment? Then, "Why did she do that?"
"Oh, she doesn't like me," he replied sullenly.
My stomach was in knots. Oh God, what do we do? I knew that you can't brush things like this of, no matter how many children are simply over-reacting. But, then what? Call the social services? Never! So, what?
"Oh," Mom said again, quietly, seriously. "Why doesn't she like you?"
"I didn't listen to her."
Everyone was silent for a minute.
"Won't your family be worried about you?" Mom asked.
"No. She said I'm not welcome there."
"Oh." Again she drew the word out, thinking. "Where are your parents?"
He said they were in another state. That he was staying with his grandma, and had been staying with her for several years. That she didn't care about him.
What do you do in such a situation? He didn't have any bruises or scratches, and didn't look mistreated.
We talked to him a bit longer and learned that he is homeschooled, ten years old, and that he had
been walking for at least two hours.
We needed to get home - we had things that needed done right away - but we couldn't just leave him there. Mom asked him if she could call his dad, or call his grandma. He didn't know his grandma's number, and refused to give his dad's number. He said that he would walk to the gas station a long way down the road and call his dad there. Mom told him that it looked like it would be raining, was he ready to walk all that way in the rain? And did he bring anything with him? Any clothes, any books? No, nothing. Only his light t-shirt and shorts.
He was tired. We both could tell that. As Mom told me later, it seemed like he just needed someone to tell all his troubles to, and then all his anger would evaporate. It was very clear that he had walked off in the heat of his anger, and not really thought much about it. If it was deliberate running away, he would've packed food and clothes, and probably not walked on the road. Mom asked if she could drive him home, but it was obvious that he had been strictly warned about strangers, for he wouldn't get into our car. There was no other option, then, (or so it seemed) but to just let him go home. He wouldn't let us drive him home, he wouldn't let us call his dad, and we had no proof other than his own words that his home situation was abusive. If I knew that the social services would do him good, and he wouldn't be further hurt by them removing him from his home, I would entertain the idea of calling them. But there were no marks on him that proved abuse.
Still, the empathy in me struggled with just letting him go home, with not being able to do anything to help him. Because most likely there /is/ something wrong in his home. If he was shown proper love, he would not be running off like this. If his home was secure, he would not think he is so unloved and uncared for. Yet, truly, I do not know the situation, and because of that I am sitting here doing nothing for him.
As we drove away, I told him where we lived, and told him to come there if he ever needed anything. Poor guy. If only I could help all these hurting children. I know so well what a child needs (although showing or telling people how to do it would prove difficult), and I so wish I could help every one of them. Because they need it, and parents today are doing such a sorry job.
For example, the lady at the park several weeks back. I was sitting at the jumping pillow, watching my two sweet youngest siblings jump with all their might, and the lady sitting a little behind me and to my left began to yell at her son. This little boy wasn't more than four, probably three, and she was just laying it on him for teasing my brother. You know, the regular game - "Come get me, come get me! Na-na-na-na-boo-boo!" Then, "Help! Help! He's coming to get me!"
At first I thought she was just trying to get him not to tease my brother, and didn't want him running away from where we all were at the jumping pillow. But she seemed to get worse and worse. Eventually it went like this; "Johnny! Sit down right now! And don't get up! You're not getting up till your grandmother gets here! I don't know why you're so bad! SHUT UP! See your sister over there? Why can't you be good like her?" Then to her daughter, approvingly, "That's a girl, Susie. Here, let me take a picture of you." Then to "Johhny" again, "SIT DOWN! I told you not to get up! Look how bad you are! You aren't going to get any sort of treat for your behaviour!" And on and on like this. What's more, she was saying it in a really mean tone, and had such an ugly look on her face.
Now, "Johnny" wasn't a total angel (citing his natural boyishness) but I saw no excuse to be punishing him, especially in such a cruel way, and especially out in public. He was such a cheerful little boy, and I fear how it will be for him as he grows older. I suspect if she keeps up the "Why don't you be more like your sister" act, then he'll resent "Susie" and his mom. And I don't doubt he'll try to break ties as soon as possible.
It almost made me cry. I was almost shaking by the time we left, and I really wanted to talk to her. Unfortunately, by the time I brought up enough bravado to go over to her, Dad was ready to go, and I had to get the children's shoes on. I hope she did notice my disapproval of the situation, though. I kept looking over at her, a frown on my face. It just makes me so angry and about to cry when parents refuse to have patience and kindness when working with their kids. Why have kids if you are going to treat them so wrongly?
It really works me up.
And just yesterday, I saw a mom - twice - just pull her crying little girl up by the arm and give her several whacks on her bottom. Sure, the little girl didn't want to go wherever her mom was taking her, and was making an awful fuss, but in public? Spanking should never be used like that. The parent is not supposed to be hitting them into submission. They are supposed to take their child aside, tell them why they are getting punished, and quietly and lovingly punish them.
But parents will be parents.
Oh. Oh. Why?
We were driving along home from a busy day at work. I was tired. I was happy. I was hungry; I hadn't eaten since the morning, and the casserole I had put in the oven that morning was looking more and more delicious. I hoped they had saved some for us.
We sailed around The Snake's Back, braking slightly to keep from going off the road. And as we went around the top of the S curve, we saw him. Wearily waving his arms, he plodded despairingly along towards us in the opposite lane.
"Huh. What's he doing?" I asked Mom. "Doesn't he know that he shouldn't walk there, that he might get hit?"
Mom looked in her rearview mirror. "That's odd. Do you think he was waving at us?" She slowed significantly, and turned around in a neighbor's driveway.
"I don't know," I said, a concerned feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Mom rolled down her window as she slowed down by the boy, who had stopped, staring at us, expressionless.
"Can I help you?" Mom asked.
"I'm running away."
We were silent. Shocked. What?
"Okay," Mom said, drawing out the word. "Okay. Why is that?"
"They don't want me there. My grandma hit me with a belt on my face."
"Oh." We were silent. Abuse? Or punishment? Then, "Why did she do that?"
"Oh, she doesn't like me," he replied sullenly.
My stomach was in knots. Oh God, what do we do? I knew that you can't brush things like this of, no matter how many children are simply over-reacting. But, then what? Call the social services? Never! So, what?
"Oh," Mom said again, quietly, seriously. "Why doesn't she like you?"
"I didn't listen to her."
Everyone was silent for a minute.
"Won't your family be worried about you?" Mom asked.
"No. She said I'm not welcome there."
"Oh." Again she drew the word out, thinking. "Where are your parents?"
He said they were in another state. That he was staying with his grandma, and had been staying with her for several years. That she didn't care about him.
What do you do in such a situation? He didn't have any bruises or scratches, and didn't look mistreated.
We talked to him a bit longer and learned that he is homeschooled, ten years old, and that he had
been walking for at least two hours.
We needed to get home - we had things that needed done right away - but we couldn't just leave him there. Mom asked him if she could call his dad, or call his grandma. He didn't know his grandma's number, and refused to give his dad's number. He said that he would walk to the gas station a long way down the road and call his dad there. Mom told him that it looked like it would be raining, was he ready to walk all that way in the rain? And did he bring anything with him? Any clothes, any books? No, nothing. Only his light t-shirt and shorts.
He was tired. We both could tell that. As Mom told me later, it seemed like he just needed someone to tell all his troubles to, and then all his anger would evaporate. It was very clear that he had walked off in the heat of his anger, and not really thought much about it. If it was deliberate running away, he would've packed food and clothes, and probably not walked on the road. Mom asked if she could drive him home, but it was obvious that he had been strictly warned about strangers, for he wouldn't get into our car. There was no other option, then, (or so it seemed) but to just let him go home. He wouldn't let us drive him home, he wouldn't let us call his dad, and we had no proof other than his own words that his home situation was abusive. If I knew that the social services would do him good, and he wouldn't be further hurt by them removing him from his home, I would entertain the idea of calling them. But there were no marks on him that proved abuse.
Still, the empathy in me struggled with just letting him go home, with not being able to do anything to help him. Because most likely there /is/ something wrong in his home. If he was shown proper love, he would not be running off like this. If his home was secure, he would not think he is so unloved and uncared for. Yet, truly, I do not know the situation, and because of that I am sitting here doing nothing for him.
As we drove away, I told him where we lived, and told him to come there if he ever needed anything. Poor guy. If only I could help all these hurting children. I know so well what a child needs (although showing or telling people how to do it would prove difficult), and I so wish I could help every one of them. Because they need it, and parents today are doing such a sorry job.
For example, the lady at the park several weeks back. I was sitting at the jumping pillow, watching my two sweet youngest siblings jump with all their might, and the lady sitting a little behind me and to my left began to yell at her son. This little boy wasn't more than four, probably three, and she was just laying it on him for teasing my brother. You know, the regular game - "Come get me, come get me! Na-na-na-na-boo-boo!" Then, "Help! Help! He's coming to get me!"
At first I thought she was just trying to get him not to tease my brother, and didn't want him running away from where we all were at the jumping pillow. But she seemed to get worse and worse. Eventually it went like this; "Johnny! Sit down right now! And don't get up! You're not getting up till your grandmother gets here! I don't know why you're so bad! SHUT UP! See your sister over there? Why can't you be good like her?" Then to her daughter, approvingly, "That's a girl, Susie. Here, let me take a picture of you." Then to "Johhny" again, "SIT DOWN! I told you not to get up! Look how bad you are! You aren't going to get any sort of treat for your behaviour!" And on and on like this. What's more, she was saying it in a really mean tone, and had such an ugly look on her face.
Now, "Johnny" wasn't a total angel (citing his natural boyishness) but I saw no excuse to be punishing him, especially in such a cruel way, and especially out in public. He was such a cheerful little boy, and I fear how it will be for him as he grows older. I suspect if she keeps up the "Why don't you be more like your sister" act, then he'll resent "Susie" and his mom. And I don't doubt he'll try to break ties as soon as possible.
It almost made me cry. I was almost shaking by the time we left, and I really wanted to talk to her. Unfortunately, by the time I brought up enough bravado to go over to her, Dad was ready to go, and I had to get the children's shoes on. I hope she did notice my disapproval of the situation, though. I kept looking over at her, a frown on my face. It just makes me so angry and about to cry when parents refuse to have patience and kindness when working with their kids. Why have kids if you are going to treat them so wrongly?
It really works me up.
And just yesterday, I saw a mom - twice - just pull her crying little girl up by the arm and give her several whacks on her bottom. Sure, the little girl didn't want to go wherever her mom was taking her, and was making an awful fuss, but in public? Spanking should never be used like that. The parent is not supposed to be hitting them into submission. They are supposed to take their child aside, tell them why they are getting punished, and quietly and lovingly punish them.
But parents will be parents.
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