Ride or Die
Did you see the story about the Mom who put tats on her two young children?
She wrote 'Ride or Die' on the hand of one of the kids who was just 12-years old.
A permanent tattoo!
Are you kidding me?
What was funny were the comments following the story.
"That's her kid! She can do what she wants!!"
Really?
Listen, being a parent isn't easy.
It's about love, worry, fear, worry, love, concern, worry, love and being scared out of your mind.
I must confess that I have become a little like my beautiful wife and my adoring mother-in-law more and more as time moves forward.
"What's Matt doing tonight?"
"Why does Jake have to go out when it's snowing?"
"What time will the boys be home?"
"I heard a car in the driveway."
Kathy has actually mellowed a bit while I am now trapped in the...
"Are they safe?"
...Mode.
I can't imagine putting a tat on the hand of my child.
Seems a tad crazy.
My mind always goes back to the 8-year-old that I knew back in Connecticut. His father used him as a punching bag, cursed him at every turn, called the kid stupid...
...'cause he's his kid?
I don't get it.
Remember the moment when you laid eyes on your child for the first time?
Can you recall when they played with King Kong toys, everything so alive for them, so curious, so loving, so happy?
And you beat that out of them?
Or give them a tattoo that says 'Ride or Die' and someone claims that it's your right to do what you want with them?
It blows my mind.
I've had conversations with people who certainly believe that it's not only right to hit your kids, it's also necessary!
"It teaches discipline!" They'll say.
Actually, it teaches fear.
It gives them that as a problem-solving technique.
Not good.
I was cleaning out an old storage room the other day.
I found a homework assignment that Jake had done in what had to be about the first-grade.
He was writing about a fight between a bull shark and a great white.
The writing was so simple and so beautiful.
Black and white.
The great white, his favorite, taking charge.
I longed for that Jake back for a moment, but knew that I hadn't missed any of it and that Jake had felt secure to become the man he will become.
Free of beatings, free of permanent tattoo's, free of fear and resentment.
Why didn't that Mom give those permanent attributes to her kids instead?
She wrote 'Ride or Die' on the hand of one of the kids who was just 12-years old.
A permanent tattoo!
Are you kidding me?
What was funny were the comments following the story.
"That's her kid! She can do what she wants!!"
Really?
Listen, being a parent isn't easy.
It's about love, worry, fear, worry, love, concern, worry, love and being scared out of your mind.
I must confess that I have become a little like my beautiful wife and my adoring mother-in-law more and more as time moves forward.
"What's Matt doing tonight?"
"Why does Jake have to go out when it's snowing?"
"What time will the boys be home?"
"I heard a car in the driveway."
Kathy has actually mellowed a bit while I am now trapped in the...
"Are they safe?"
...Mode.
I can't imagine putting a tat on the hand of my child.
Seems a tad crazy.
My mind always goes back to the 8-year-old that I knew back in Connecticut. His father used him as a punching bag, cursed him at every turn, called the kid stupid...
...'cause he's his kid?
I don't get it.
Remember the moment when you laid eyes on your child for the first time?
Can you recall when they played with King Kong toys, everything so alive for them, so curious, so loving, so happy?
And you beat that out of them?
Or give them a tattoo that says 'Ride or Die' and someone claims that it's your right to do what you want with them?
It blows my mind.
I've had conversations with people who certainly believe that it's not only right to hit your kids, it's also necessary!
"It teaches discipline!" They'll say.
Actually, it teaches fear.
It gives them that as a problem-solving technique.
Not good.
I was cleaning out an old storage room the other day.
I found a homework assignment that Jake had done in what had to be about the first-grade.
He was writing about a fight between a bull shark and a great white.
The writing was so simple and so beautiful.
Black and white.
The great white, his favorite, taking charge.
I longed for that Jake back for a moment, but knew that I hadn't missed any of it and that Jake had felt secure to become the man he will become.
Free of beatings, free of permanent tattoo's, free of fear and resentment.
Why didn't that Mom give those permanent attributes to her kids instead?
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