It is ON. Brave and I are going toe to toe, and I am going to win. He is a 20 pound ball of baby flesh (a mighty cute one, I might add) and I am the 120 pound MAMA.
I really hate it when this day finally comes. I hate to reach out and rap pudgy knuckles after they touch what they know not to touch. I hate to be met by a look of total betrayal, followed by a broken-hearted yowl. It really is not parenting at its glory.
Or is it?
I saw the heading for an article in TIME Magazine the other day (notice I stopped at the heading) stating that the "fact" that spanking children causes them to grow into abusive adults is a no-brainer. I ran it by Daniel, who cooly reminded me of Proverbs 13:24, "He who spares his rod hates his son, but he who loves him diligently disciplines and punishes him early."
Oh yeah, that's right, the Bib!e is systemically being undermined by Sat@n in modern culture.
Not that there isn't grace in parenting. I once heard of a dad who sat in the car during an entire dinner party while his offending daughter went in to the party. She was supposed to sit in the car for what she had done on the way over, but he took her punishment as a demonstration of what her Savior did for her on calvary. Don't think that lesson didn't stick.
Discipline can be a glorious thing, when done lovingly and outside of the context of shame. The kids might not see that now, but someday they will.
So I will continue to thump Brave's digits when he touches the outlet, and Zion will continue to say, "Brave, don't touch that, you could die on it." Then, after a dramatic pause, "I'm not touching it, seeee? I don't want to die. My name's not Je$us, and that [pointing to the outlet] is not the cross!"