My son is 45 pounds and about 46 inches tall. He’s a healthy six-year-old bean pole. While I am not opposed to spanking kids for disciplinary reasons, I do keep those numbers in my head when I get mad enough to hit him. Seems a little extreme, but when I read news headlines about fathers beating their children to death it helps to have a little perspective. As a parent, you have to stop and ask yourself: if hitting your child is the only way you’re getting them to listen, is it possible you’re doing something wrong?
There is an ongoing debate as to what the line between discipline and abuse is, and unfortunately, it’s terribly subjective. If you were raised where a belt and/or switch were commonly used for discipline, you may balk at the idea of “time out” or the idea that hitting your child is ALWAYS wrong. But if you are a child advocate or social worker who has witnessed the bruises, burns and even deaths of children victimized by parents who couldn’t manage their own anger, you’d have a zero-tolerance policy.
My personal philosophy is “get ‘em young so you won’t have to get ‘em at all.” I can count the times I was hit with a belt as a kid on one hand, and the memory of those beatings carried me into my teen years. I’m no child psychologist, but in my limited experience my son has hated the IDEA of being hit way more than being hit. By the time he could walk, he associated his bad behavior with a tap on his Pampered butt. I will gladly emphasize my words with some open-handed support because I don’t want my son ending up like these kids. I’ve even employed the idle threat of “don’t make me get my belt,” knowing damn well that I’ve never hit him with my belt. His imagination is doing all of the work for me.
The key for me is balance. The spankings were coupled with taking away his favorite toys or activities or making him stand in the corner. I don’t believe just beating your kid is going to solve any long term problems, but in the age of PS3, Internet, DTV, cellphones and so many digital goodies, there are plenty of ways to hit a kid where it hurts. My son has cried when I’ve hit him, but it’s nothing like the look on his face when I throw some of his Pokemon cards in the garbage. The batteries are dead in your Nintendo DS? Good. Let it stay that way.
It has gotten to the point now where I can’t remember the last time I hit my son.
It’s January of 2009, and I can just guesstimate that somewhere around the spring of 08 was the last time I raised my hand to him, and that feels good. If your six-year-old doesn’t have a healthy fear of you by now, you’ve dropped the ball. I know that by the time he’s a teenager I may have to issue some refresher taps, but at least by then he’ll be closer to my size.
