Natural. I’m actually trying hard NOT to be an asshole, so you can just imagine what happens when I’m not even trying.
I’m aware of the fear of Protective Services, and I’m pretty well capable of anticipating ALL the categories of responses I would have gotten before I received a one. (Maybe I shoulda listed them in my OP? That would have been a friendly way to start things off.) It’s just that I find these categories terribly convenient, and they all add up to: “Not Gunna Talk About It.”
Now it seems odd to me, even given a sound rational basis for most of these fears, that people would engage in a practice that they think is perfectly fine, perfectly legal, a matter of personal choice, Ice Cream and Apple Pie, yet be totally unwilling, even angry, at the idea that they might offer even mild examples of punishment that even a maniac such as I would have no problem with.
Tell you what: I’ll start. I arrived at a restaurant with two kids (ages 4 and 8) in need of lunch, but the younger one threw a fit for some unknowable reason and refused to leave the car. Her sister was hungry (as was I) and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her in the car as we ate. Every time I tried pulling her out, she would cling to the seats, and I saw that I was hurting her in extracting her from the car–besides I couldn’t think of a way to get her to behave any better inside the restaurant if I were to carry her in there. So I decided to put her in her safe and secure child-seat, strap her in good and proper, and leave her in the car while we grabbed a quick lunch.
So far, so good, right? No child abuse, no hitting, a lot of arguing and persuasion, to no avail. But it was very hard getting her to sit in the child-seat, and I handled her roughly in doing so. I pushed her back, I held her down while doing the straps, and I wasn’t particularly gentle about it.
When I got her trussed up good and proper, she very angrily told me “You’re a mean daddy.”
She was right. In retrospect, I should have simply driven on to the drive-in restaurant a few miles down the road, and ordered food for my kids there, but I got it in my head that we were going to have lunch in this non-drivethru place, and I stubbornly stuck to that.
I talked about it with her this past summer, BTW. She’s a very articulate 18-year old. She didn’t remember a thing. I remember it vividly–the weather, what we wearing, the exact words she said to me, which still pain me when I think of them. I wasn’t a very good daddy that day. There was a civilized but inconvenient solution to the problem I faced, and I chose badly in resolving it. If someone had seen my harshest moment handling my daughter roughly in the car, maybe I would have faced arrest, and maybe I would have deserved it. (If I had been arrested, you can bet I’d be totally defensive about my behavior that afternoon.) I don’t know.
Probably I did things akin to this several times as my kids grew up, but this is the one I remember most clearly.