Steve
Practically Family
- Messages
- 550
- Location
- Pensacola, FL
I was reminded yet again of how far we've drifted from the rod when I was at dinner with my family tonight at the local Carabba's tonight. For those of you who have been, you know how good Carabba's food is, and for those of you who don't, it is some mighty good Italian.
But I digress. We were seated next to a large table with perhaps seven or eight persons around it. Unfortunately for me, I was closest to it. For the first half-hour of our seventy minute recline, I was treated to being about two feet from a small child that severely lacked guidance. Aside from squabbling with her senior sister, she seemed to have a fetish for standing next to her chair and moving spasmodically. Then she started moving around the table for some unnecessary reason and her head brushed against me. Then I snapped internally.
I go to a restaurant with my family. We pay good money to sit and be served by charismatic waiters and fine chefs in a relaxing atmosphere; and I do not appreciate it when parents are so inconsiderate of their fellow man that they neglect to teach their offspring proper manners for said situation. I would have gotten my proverbial hide tanned if I had done that. But this country is festering with people who are continually telling us how to raise children minus the woodshed.
I'll tell you what I was raised with. A wooden spoon, effectively wielded with deadly accuracy by my mother. An infraction? Three to five licks. I balk? Ten. And I can tell you that it grew me up quick. So quick that I am world-weary and cynical by the age of sixteen. While my friends ponder rock bands and driving I can be found curled up in bed at night with a book regarding history or economics.
Sorry for rambling, but I had to get all that out.
But I digress. We were seated next to a large table with perhaps seven or eight persons around it. Unfortunately for me, I was closest to it. For the first half-hour of our seventy minute recline, I was treated to being about two feet from a small child that severely lacked guidance. Aside from squabbling with her senior sister, she seemed to have a fetish for standing next to her chair and moving spasmodically. Then she started moving around the table for some unnecessary reason and her head brushed against me. Then I snapped internally.
I go to a restaurant with my family. We pay good money to sit and be served by charismatic waiters and fine chefs in a relaxing atmosphere; and I do not appreciate it when parents are so inconsiderate of their fellow man that they neglect to teach their offspring proper manners for said situation. I would have gotten my proverbial hide tanned if I had done that. But this country is festering with people who are continually telling us how to raise children minus the woodshed.
I'll tell you what I was raised with. A wooden spoon, effectively wielded with deadly accuracy by my mother. An infraction? Three to five licks. I balk? Ten. And I can tell you that it grew me up quick. So quick that I am world-weary and cynical by the age of sixteen. While my friends ponder rock bands and driving I can be found curled up in bed at night with a book regarding history or economics.
Sorry for rambling, but I had to get all that out.