Dads and Discipline
I’ve written about my Dad here before. I know I’ve shared previously that almost anytime I’ve met anyone who knew my Dad, the next words out of their mouths (after learning I was his daughter) were, “He is the nicest man.” He truly was a kind and decent man, and I was so extraordinarily fortunate to have him as a father.
But even my sweet, gentle Dad could put his foot down at times. Mom was the primary disciplinarian, largely because she was the lucky duck who got to spend the most time with me (and my older siblings) as we were growing up — through toddlerhood and teen-dom, and all manner of ruckuses raised, while Dad was at his law office. But Dad could lay down the law (no pun intended) when and if he had to. And if you think a cheesed-off Mom can be scary, nothing will get your attention quicker than a normally soft-spoken,…
