And then there’s the look. If we were in public and I got out of line I’d get the warning look. I never needed another warning from my dad and was grateful to have a warning. My mom’s second warning was the subtle pinch. The odds were about 50/50 that dad would hear about it, if it got to the pinch. Not falling in line after the pinch, well that was just unfathomable. I guess in my mind I felt like I would not survive the resulting punishment for that transgression so it always ended there.
As long as the line wasn’t crossed, they were a blast to be around and were very engaged, especially dad. But being a latchkey kid meant a lot of unsupervised time where I could get into trouble.
Oh no, I was taught to be polite, or there would likely be violence. The threat of Dad’s punishment was always on the table.
Greetings, fellow child of working-class parents!
:)
And then there’s the look. If we were in public and I got out of line I’d get the warning look. I never needed another warning from my dad and was grateful to have a warning. My mom’s second warning was the subtle pinch. The odds were about 50/50 that dad would hear about it, if it got to the pinch. Not falling in line after the pinch, well that was just unfathomable. I guess in my mind I felt like I would not survive the resulting punishment for that transgression so it always ended there.
As long as the line wasn’t crossed, they were a blast to be around and were very engaged, especially dad. But being a latchkey kid meant a lot of unsupervised time where I could get into trouble.