Putting the Smack on Junior's Behind

In honor of lighter posting, and because my brain is toast, I thought I would share/confess something with you all about child-rearing. First off, let the record show that I am a spanker of children. I confess that I am even tempted to sometimes spank the children of other people. The truth be known, I have often seen children in the mall and other places that I had to restrain myself from begging the parents to bring out the rod.

I have plenty of Biblical reasons for this, and at least one Benjamin Franklin reason as well. Ben said, "Spare the rod; spoil the child." The Lord was a little harsher than Mr. Franklin, however, He said, "He who spares his rod hates his son, but he who doves him disciplines him promptly" (Proverbs 13:24). I love, therefore I spank.

There are, I believe, several reasons for the spanking of children. One reason is that sin has a consequence. You sin; you get punished. So, if little Ethan toddles over to daddy's cell phone, picks it up, and calls Tokyo; he gets a spankin'. He knows he isn't supposed to pick up daddy's cell phone, (he has already slimed one to death with vociferous amounts of slobber) but he does it anyway. One pop with the wooden ladle to the bad of the buttocks and the point is driven home with wailing and gnashing of teeth. Futhermore, the cell phone is rescued. It is also for correction. Hopefully, the punishment will drive away the foolishness bound up in their little hearts.

In fact, I am quite stunned at how fast Ethan learned what "no" means, and I am equally surprised at how quickly he began to completely ignore it. I have a little basket sitting on my desk that holds a good deal of change. I do not want Ethan getting that thing because, well, he'll eat all my money. I don't want to be digging through diapers to get my Susan B. Anthony back, so I am teaching him not to touch it. One day, as expected, Ethan toddles over to the basket and picks it up. I tell him no, that's daddy's, leave it alone or daddy will have to spank. He understood. I know that he understood because he immediately began crying when he realized that he couldn't play with it. This, of course, made him want to play with it even more than before. He just couldn't take no for an answer.

Unfortunately for my son, I have a sort of an analytical mind. I know from Scripture that my son is a depraved little miscreant waiting to happen. To compound the problem, hunting season is over and I have no other prey to stalk. So as an experiment, I told Ethan to leave that thing alone and I walked out of the room with him. Then...I hid and waited. Sure enough, as soon as I was out of sight, he headed into my office and straight for the little change basket. I am not kidding you, the boy is 16 months old, and when he stood in front of that basket he actually looked around to see if anyone was watching. He isn't sneaky enough yet, so he didn't spot me peering at him with a wooden spoon from behind the door. He reached out, just like that Adam of old, and grabbed daddy's change basket. HUZZAH! I jumped out like a hunter shooting ducks from a blind in the bayou. One crisp and a few tears later and junior and I had things worked out about daddy's change basket. He wasn't, of course, crying because I had really hurt him physically. He was crying because he got caught and punished and his dreams of eating my nickels and dimes had gone up in smoke.

So, there you have it. I spank my son. I like it very much when I break out the wooden spoon and my son goes limp like a spaghetti noodle. It means that he is learning that certain actions have consequences. And, in the end, it keeps him safe. I love my son, and so I spank him. I also hug him and talk to him and tickle him. But those are different topics for a different post. I'll leave you with one final nugget from Solomon the Wise:

Do not withhold correction from a child, for if you beat him with a rod, he will not die. You shall beat him with a rod, and deliver his soul from hell.