A few days ago I was having some issues with Justice. Mostly back talking. It’s happening a lot more lately. After a full day of; but, how come, why, I’d had enough. I told her to go to her room.
We spank in our house, but on rare occasions.
The process is pretty simple, a reminder of what she did wrong (she’s well versed in why she shouldn’t back talk… including the worst case scenario of “if you’re too busy back talking you might get yourself hurt”.)
Second step is time out.
Third is taking privileges away. (That day it was Netflix.) And still she back talked.
The fourth and final step is a spanking. I hate spankings. : (
It was near bedtime when I told her to go to her room; I was in the middle of bathing the twins. It gave me some time to think about what I would say to her and how we could stop the endless questioning. Each time I brought a baby to the room to dry off and dress she’d be crying and pleading for me not to spank her.
*I’d like to point out that I have a very light hand. Usually before the last swat she’s sitting up and apologizing and saying she promises to never do it again. But it seems the wait was more painful to her.
By the time I was done with the twins and had them down for the night she was sobbing, the pitiful kind where she couldn’t catch her breath. She was trying to tell me how she knew she shouldn’t back talk and that she knew I just wanted her to do her chores so that life would be easier for all of us. And we could spend more time enjoying each other. She went on and on… it was killing me.
I laid down beside her and asked her why she always had to question me when she knew what she was to do each day and had already been given answers when the chores were set out months ago. She didn’t have a real answer, but between sobs she said, “Can you forgive me?”
At this point Tommy had come to the room ready for prayers. He wasn’t sure what all had happened that day because he had worked late and I hadn’t had time to explain. He sat on the other side of the bed as she pleaded her case, repeating over and over again, “Please forgive me.” Thankfully the lights were off and only the night light was on… I couldn’t stop my own tears. Tommy bowed his head, no doubt just as emotional.
I pulled her to me, asked if she deserved it (only to stall for time since I couldn’t speak yet) and I was surprised when my 7-year old daughter, the back talker, the one who questions every step said,
“No one deserves forgiveness.”
Here was JUSTICE, asking for FORGIVENESS, knowing she didn’t deserve it.
*Did I spank her? Of course not… we prayed.