Friday, December 3, 2010
I experienced the world in a different way, and I knew that I was different (and so did everyone else). Kids treated me differently, bullied me, or thought I was "weird" and shunned me. Parents assumed that I was a "bad influence", even before I rebelled in any way and was trying really hard to fit in. I've always stuck out like a sore thumb, and now I've made my peace with that. I know why I was different (several reasons, not just one!) and that people were afraid of strange little me in my small town.
He is a member of this family and his opinions matter. I want him to learn to be articulate and form ideas and be able to express them well. That starts at home.
I do not believe in using violence to discipline a child, but more than that- I do not want to be someone that my son fears. I want him to feel like he can come to me for advice, for solace, for help, and with questions. I want him to approach me to play while he is at an age that he would like that. Playing with my son is a delight- and if that means setting aside adult work for a little while, so be it.
The pictures on the left have always struck me- they are a comic I saw years ago, and cut out and mounted on cardboard and have been on my fridge ever since. My son will not experience the robbing of his childhood like the poor boy on the left.