Jesse Fox5 said:What exactly is "scary" about those expressions?????? What I actually saw was scary.
So, her mom is basically catering to her every whim when it comes to food. I mean... she asked for steak and baked potatoes... and her mom actually made it. This little brat sat down, took one bite of a potato, and just pushed the plate away. Nothing. Half an hour later, she’s snacking on ice cream and chugging Coca-Cola. That definitely wouldn't fly at my house. You hungry? No?
Fine then, you can wait until dinner for that meal. No ice cream and none of that nonsense. Just you wait... once she's actually hungry, she'll start respecting the food and the effort someone put into making it.
If she were to, as you put it, totally lose it with me, she'd be sent straight to her room to cool off until she apologized. Even if that takes all day.
And what part of that is supposed to be scary ??? I don't get it.
The apology they just handed out? It’s a complete joke—honestly, it’s nothing more than a slap in the face.
It’s the exact same pattern as those disastrous "peace and harmony" schemes—you know the ones—where everyone pretends nobody is at fault and we all just move on with a chorus of empty platitudes. It's what happens after the kids have already started throwing punches; then the old guard steps in and forces them to shake hands just because that's how things are "supposed" to be done. Such a joke.
Sweeping things under the rug is bad—really, truly bad. It’s one of those habits that seems harmless enough in the moment, but eventually, you just end up tripping over the pile of mess you thought you'd hidden away.
And honestly? I’m perfectly fine with how I handled that when I was just a kid—I flat-out refused. I have zero regrets about standing my ground back then.
Honestly, I realized there was zero point in giving anyone else a second chance—not when they’re just going to stab me in the back five minutes later and then go off to sing their little victory song. So, fine—go ahead and deal with the fallout yourself. You wanted it, you got it.
We really need to figure out a way to teach kids that their words actually carry weight—you know, that they should probably stand by what they say—and that actions come with consequences. It’s one thing to talk a big game, but it's another thing entirely to own up to the mess you've made.
Reconciliation only actually carries weight when there’s a lesson learned—when you finally grasp why that blowout happened in the first place and realize it isn't going to be a recurring theme. Otherwise, an "I promise to do better" is just empty noise—it’s not some mindless celebration of good intentions. An apology only matters when it holds substance—when the child actually understands the gravity of what they're saying.
I actually told my mother recently that she was being a complete jerk for forcing me to apologize in certain situations—insisting I just "look at myself" because apparently, an apology is some kind of moral obligation. Today, she finally admitted she felt bad about it; back then, she just didn't know any other way to handle things. But honestly? Life is what it is—sometimes you just have to do what’s expected.
My own "disobedience and arrogance"—if that’s how they wanted to label it—is exactly what turned me into a spineless follower. There were plenty of attempts to break my spirit along the way, but honestly, the only real punishment I ever actually faced was a beating.
Oh yeah—it’s the one thing that actually kept me sane and kept my head on straight.
There are those rare, pivotal moments—the kind that actually shift the ground beneath your feet—when your parents finally drop the act and say, "Look, I’m only human, I messed up. I'm sorry." It’s in those instances that an apology stops being this vague, abstract concept and actually starts feeling like something real.
And then there was that moment when they actually had the nerve to ask for my forgiveness—not because they were sorry, really, but just to clear the air after the way they punished me. They sat there, trying to play it all calm and collected, attempting to walk me through their "logic." It was this whole rehearsed explanation of what they thought I’d done wrong, why they supposedly "lost control," and why they couldn't find a more civilized way to handle the situation. As if an apology could somehow fix the mess they made.
The exact moment I actually started feeling some genuine respect for my parents was when they finally let their guard down and showed me their vulnerability—realizing that they actually cared about earning my respect rather than just demanding it through fear. It turns out there's a massive difference between building a bond and simply trying to rule by intimidation.
One of those conversations sounded something like this—"Look, we can't control you. You’re always going to make choices that happen entirely outside our radar, even though, honestly, we’d love to be part of your life and have you actually *ask* us for advice once in a while. We're operating under the assumption that you aren't some complete idiot who doesn't realize how much smoking, drinking, or drugs can wreck you, but if you’re hell-bent on trying them, there’s nothing we can do to stop you. Just don't come crawling back expecting us to foot the bill."
Honestly, that was a total "whoa" moment for me.
I wouldn't call it a surrender—not exactly—but it was certainly an admission. A clear, loud-and-proud "we don't own you." And honestly? Hearing that just shifted something in my head. It made me realize—fine, they didn't know any better. Given the sheer amount of chaos and dysfunction they grew up around, where kindness wasn't even a concept, I can't really blame them for reaching for the wrong things sometimes. I’ve reached a point where I can forgive them for not knowing a better way to live, while still respecting the fact that they never tried to force me into a box. Despite all their messiness and flaws, they always made this effort—however clumsy—to let me be myself, to face the consequences of my own actions, and to actually take responsibility for my life.
Look, we’ve had our fair share of crises—plenty of them, actually. Let’s be clear: they aren't robots, and I'm certainly not one either. We all hit those breaking points where things just fall apart. But in my experience, as long as there is a genuine, underlying drive to actually fix what's broken, things eventually get back on track. The distinction is subtle but vital—it's the difference between saying, "I want us to be okay, so I am going to put in the work," versus simply saying, "I want us to be okay because that's what I want." One is an active commitment to repair; the other is just wishful thinking. And frankly, wishful thinking doesn't fix much of anything.
Generally speaking, I’ve felt that exact same mechanism play out firsthand—not to mention watching it unfold with other people's kids—so I know exactly how well it actually works.
Look, let’s get one thing straight—I’m not exactly here to be your best friend. I’m just doing my job. That said, I have zero interest in being treated like some untouchable authority figure, and frankly, I don't mind being wrong. So, please—don't hold back. If I miss the mark, tell me. I can handle it.
The moment I realized I was in the wrong, I just owned it—out loud. I offered to make things right and actually sat there to listen to their suggestions.
Did it work? Well, judging by how they reacted afterward, I’d say yes. By involving them and actually taking their feedback to heart, I found a way to connect that wasn't just defensive. And honestly? I didn't hesitate to say, "Thanks for helping me out." It might have sounded a little cheesy to them, but for me, it felt necessary.
But here’s the thing—it worked because it was real. That’s the truth of it. They could tell I wasn't just performing or faking an apology; I genuinely meant it. And because they felt that sincerity, they gave me the space to actually fix things.
Look, when a parent tries to "manage" their kid instead of being authentic, they’re failing. Period.
It’s like when you say, "I hear you," while you're miles away from actually understanding them. Or when you mutter "sorry" but you don't mean a single word of it.
Kids are people. We tend to forget that sometimes. We can't expect them to take responsibility for their actions if we don't actually give them the room to do so.
Forcing an apology just because it’s the "polite thing to do" isn't teaching responsibility—it’s just training robots. It's creating followers, not individuals.
We all have egos—believe me, I know—but we also need to have some backbone. Don't try to break their spirit; instead, try to understand them and actually teach them.
