Listen, son: I say this while you sleep, and one of your tiny hands is folded under your cheeks, and your blond tresses are glued to the damp paste. I slipped alone into your bedroom. A few minutes ago, as I sat in the living room reading the paper, I felt a surge of remorse. Out of guilt, therefore, I came to your bed.
And these are the things I thought about, son: I was angry with you today. I scolded you as you dressed, before you went to school, because you did not wash your face but just smeared them with a damp towel. I scolded you for not polishing your shoes. I made an angry cry as you dropped some of your belongings on the floor.
I found you, too, at breakfast. You let the drink spill out of your glass on the table. You swallowed the food without chewing it. You put your elbows on the table. You smeared too thick a layer of butter on your bread roll. And when you went out to play, and I was on my way to the train - you turned to me, and waved your hand, and called "Hello, Dad!" And I scowled at you, and in reply I said, "Stand up straight!"
Then the whole affair began again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road, I noticed you kneeling, playing with jules. There were holes in your socks. I humiliated you in front of your friend, by insisting that she walk before me on our way home. Socks are an expensive product - and if you had to pay for them, you would be more careful! Imagine, my son, that such things are heard by a father!
You remember how, later, as I sat in the living room reading, you came in with a start - and you could see a hurt look in your eyes? When I looked up from the paper and found impatience with the disturbance, you stood in the doorway hesitating. "What you want?" I said in a tone of audible tone.
You did not say anything, but you ran across the room, and you hugged me by the neck and kissed me, and your little arms snapped with affection that the good God had instilled in you, and that if you did not answer it, you could not dwindle. Then you left, with your feet hobbling up the stairs.
Well, my son, soon after, my paper slipped and fell from my hand, and a terrible fear came upon me. I said to myself: What a terrible habit, and what does this habit make me? The habit of maiming, reprimanding - is the reward I pay you for being a child! It is not, of course, that I do not love you, except that I expected you, the child, too much. I have measured you with the measurement of my years.
And in your character there is much that is good, and good, and yes. Your small heart is as big as the dawn rising over the hills of the streets. Proof of this was your spontaneous urge to run up to me and kiss me goodnight. Tonight is of no importance to any other matter, my son. I came to your bed in the dark and I kneel down, ashamed and ashamed.
This is not a real atonement. I know that if I told you these things during the hours you were awake, you would not understand them. But tomorrow, I promise you, I'll be a real father! I'll be your friend, and I'll suffer when you suffer, and I'll laugh when you laugh. When a hint of impatience comes up in me, I'll bite my tongue. I will continue to say to myself, more and more, as if it were a religious ritual: "He is only a child - a little boy!"
I am afraid that I hastened to draw a picture for myself and here you are a man. But now, as I look at you, my son, cramped and tired in your little bed, I see that you are not a baby. They were only yesterday in your mother's arms, and your head rested on her shoulder. I often demanded, I exaggerated.
Moral - You will always receive your child unconditionally
Criticism as a parent's education system is a false education system. She puts the child under a magnifying glass and shows him "do not trust me."
It illuminates the child in a negative light, humiliates the child and puts him in a pessimistic circle - because she begins by being a bad boy.
Remember! There is no bad child, no bad boy, but there is a child who is not good, there is a child who is bad for him.
No one in the world can be built from negation but only from a point of strength. So encourage the child. Show him a human model. You too are wrong. Give him the courage to be imperfect.
A constructive optimistic circle is created, the child will not be afraid to experiment with new things, create positive experiences, encourage and encourage him, and thus his self-confidence will rise and he will feel equal.