What did your parents beat you for when you were a child?

Let me start with two things that happened to me.

One is that I was beaten by my father, and the other is that I beat my son to see if it makes sense.

My father beat me when I was a child. I have been walking outdoors with my 92-year-old father these days. Combined with this question, I asked my father, "Did you hit me when I was a child?" Father thought for a moment and said, "When you were ten years old, you were beaten once for collecting firewood." .

I remember it very clearly.

When I was ten years old, the Cultural Revolution had just begun.

One Sunday, my brother, who is two years younger than me, and I went to the mountain to collect firewood. We saw some rotten wood roots at the roots of vines in a small forest on the hillside, so we smashed them with stones, put them in a frame and carried them home happily.

As soon as I entered the room, my father flew into a rage. Without saying anything, he asked me to take it back from where I came and send it back. I refused, so my father put the basket on my shoulder and kicked me out of the house with three fists and two feet.

It was cold and hungry at noon, so I had to submit to humiliation and walked towards the hillside of two kilometers. At the end of time, my mother and brother caught up with me, and I couldn't help crying loudly.

My mother said, "Stop crying, son, because your father is in power!" " ! Your brothers take the collective things home. Isn't this a waste basin on your father's head? ! " .

During the Cultural Revolution, my father was never put up with a big poster and walked across the street without wearing a big paper hat. Only once was severely criticized by my younger brother (my third uncle) because his pigs arched collective crops. One night, some people who don't know the truth criticized my father. When people learned the reason, they all said that my father had done it selflessly and dispersed in a hubbub without success.

My son was beaten by me when he was a child. When my son was seven years old, he went to kindergarten. In the morning, my wife cooked two eggs for him to eat at school.

At noon, my wife came home from work and saw two broken eggs in the sewer at the door. She said to me, "What's in your sewer?" When I saw it, I was very angry and said to my wife, "hide when the child comes back, and I will take the opportunity to teach him a lesson."

After a while, my son recovered. Seeing that I was serious, I kept silent. I said, "What did you eat at school this morning?" My son confessed when he saw something bad.

I said, "You dig it out and carry it. There are 24 families in the whole family building. Starting from the neighbors, you go door to door and ask your uncles, aunts and uncles if this is right!

Faced with my stern expression, my son had to knock on the neighbor's door obediently.

Neighbor A: "Oh, your dad is really, children don't eat if they don't want to." I was so angry that the housewife of neighbor B was more interesting that she took my son to argue with me.

At first glance, it didn't achieve the result I wanted. After the neighbors left, I picked up a mop and spanked my son. Fortunately, the little guy reacted quickly, and the mop broke two pieces when it hit the ground.

I asked him to recite the Tang poem he had just learned, "It's noon when weeding, and the grains are unpalatable." I also told him the difficulty of farmers farming and the origin of grain and eggs, and gave my son a hard lesson.

This is my view on beating children.

Children don't know what is right and wrong when they are young. It's no use reasoning with him. He only knows to follow the trend and is afraid of being beaten.

If a child does something wrong, he must learn from it before writing. Of course, he must seize the opportunity and grasp the discretion, so that he will have awe of society, parents and teachers.

Don't treat your child as your darling, treat him as your future successor, you must strictly discipline and complete your unfinished business.

You can't help it, and it's not necessarily a bad thing for the teacher to beat and scold.

I was born in the winter of Hunan 1989, and my whole family wanted to have a son. Sadly, I am a girl. In the era of family planning, this is definitely a disaster. My parents are very clever. When I was about a month old, I was sent directly to menstruation's home, where I had been infertile for many years, and then I soon became pregnant with two children. After more than a year, my mother finally gave birth to a younger brother, my father. All my wonderful childhood ended here. After returning to my parents, my grandparents didn't like me in any way. Beatings are common. They haven't lived together for three years and have no feelings at all. I'm afraid of eating. When I am tired of hiding under the cupboard alone, my mother always hits me. Once I was in a hurry and bit her ass badly. I never let go. I went diving in the pond directly. I was 3 years old that year and walked in the direction of my grandmother's house every day. I hope menstruation will take me back that day. Alas, I stopped writing until I couldn't control my tears. I was at work at that time, afraid that my colleagues would see jokes!

What impressed me the most was that my mother couldn't find the real estate license, so I somehow decided that I stole it. I haven't seen it before, and I was beaten and scolded, asking me where the real estate license is. It's been almost a quarter of an hour, and I haven't seen the real estate license yet. I don't know where the real estate license is. The more I deny it, the more fierce she is. Later, I couldn't bear it anymore, so I admitted it, and then I was beaten up. I scolded: Sure enough, you stole it, but you denied it and said where the real estate license went.

I started to compile the real estate license, and I gave it to someone.

My mother got another beating when she went up. Then she asked me to go to that person and get the real estate license back.

I just gave the real estate license to someone, but I didn't expect to get it back. How can I get it back? ! !

Then another meal: good question. How do I know what to do with the real estate license? My aunt doesn't know why she came to my house at this time. She seldom came to my house before! I stopped my mother from hitting me again. Then he said, how can I get the real estate license? You must have forgotten where you put it. Then I went upstairs to look for it, and my mother kept hitting me and asked me to go to that person to get the real estate license back.

In less than five minutes, menstruation threw out the real estate license. Tell my mother that the real estate license fell into the cupboard. . . . . Said my mother beat people up.

Then my mother paused and scolded me again: you didn't do it. Why admit it? ! ! ! ! ! !

Then let me go to school by myself! ! ! ! ! ! !

I was in the first grade that year, and I didn't even know what color the real estate license was.

When I was a child, I was very naughty and liked to shoot birds with slingshots. Once, I was bored and killed a neighbor's hen with a slingshot. At that time, I felt that I had done something bad and I was very scared. I ran home at once and hid in my room. Neighbors were very angry when they found out. He took the dead hen to my home and showed it to my father. He said to my father, "How do you discipline your children?" Look, I killed all my chickens! "Hearing this, my dad got angry in his eyes, dragged me out of the room and asked me if there was such a thing. Seeing me faltering and incoherent, he immediately grabbed a stick and hit my hand, saying, "It tickles your hand! "I cried and ran, and my father chased me mercilessly. The neighbor looked a little embarrassed and said to his father, "All right! All right! Don't hurt the child. "When apologizing, my father caught a hen from his henhouse and gave it to his neighbor. He took my hen home.

My dad never hit me when I was growing up. This is the only time. It has been many years now, and my father is gone. I will never forget the time when my father hit me. How happy I am to think that Dad can hit me again! But it's impossible!

In elementary school, I once went to a classmate's house for the night without saying hello to my parents. Father called at midnight. Knock knock, smiling and greeting his classmates' parents, asked with a low smile: It's getting late, why don't you go home?

Uneasy and ignorant, I saw my father smiling, and my heart was fine. He nodded with relief and jumped on his father's bike.

The bicycle is drifting away, the car shop is far from the bridge, and the classmate's home is far away. My father walked slowly, then stopped the car and let me down. I underestimated the talent of adults and thought the tire was flat.

After coming down, there suddenly broke out a kick-ass like I went to my classmate's house for the night, during which my father and I didn't say a word ... that kind of cruelty is still vivid in my mind, and my heart is still there.

From then on, I understood my parents' hearts, how many people were looking for me at that time, and why my mother came home crying and pinched me black and blue.

Poor people carry on the family line, not to mention being an only child like me after 80.

Too many, I forgot why I was beaten. I cried so badly that I stuffed my muddy shoes into my mother's high heels as soon as I went out. My mother saw me crying so hard that she wanted to come in and coax me, but when she saw me through the door, she wiped her tears and made the high heels shapeless. I slapped him in anger. I am extremely wronged. I just looked at those high heels.

Another time, before I was old enough to go to primary school, I saw that advertisement on TV, and the people in it should say that cosmetics are waterproof. After touching makeup, splash water on your face.

I want to imitate it after reading it. I know my mother will go out to work with my father in the morning. At about eight o'clock, I washed my face and put on a face cream. I turned on the tap and threw water in my face. I ate up a bottle of cream soon. I also got water on the ground.

Just then, mom came back! ! ! !

My mother and I looked at each other, and my mother was shocked. There is only one thought left in my mind, "How did you come back at this time?"

My crying attracted my aunt across the village. "This is zha, so heavy. I forgot what else to say. I am young. ) Then I saw the chaos around me, and my aunt left.

Anyway, my skin is rough and I don't remember what happened.

It's bigger now. It seems that I set fire to the cooking room. When my mother hit me, I howled and thought, I am seven years old now. Is it not good to be so loud?

From then on, I cried when I was beaten. As a result, it hurts to speak loudly now. I used to cry when I was a child.

When I was young, I always fought with the children in the village, so my mother would lock me at home as soon as I went out. That time my mother went to the street. I have nothing to do at home, so I want to fold the clothes my mother put on the bed. Those are buttons. I turned on all the buttons. Talking to friends through the door, I don't know how to bet with friends. She rubbed pepper on her face and said, "Look, I'm not afraid."

I don't care. "I dare to wear it on my eyes!"

My friends don't believe me, so I put pepper juice on my eyes. At that moment, my crying scared the birds in the nearby trees. I cried until my mother came back. My mother didn't feel sorry for me at all, and left a sentence of "unyielding" and went into the house.

I was beaten so hard that I didn't dare to tell my mother anything. At that time, in the middle of the night, I had a nosebleed and was afraid to tell my mother. So I was very angry and wiped off all the nosebleeds left on my mother's clothes hanging on the bed. Without turning on the light, my mother asked me without looking back while watching TV, "Do you want to eat?"

This is what I want most. I was afraid that my mother would see the blood on my hand and refused.

Mom was eating snacks and didn't notice the movements on my hands. What about me? A dress was stained with blood, so I changed my mother's clothes and continued to wipe them. . . Now that I think about it, I really like being beaten! )

Mom has finished eating and is going to wash her hands. Me too. Mom is very gentle. "Why don't you wash your hands when your hands are not dirty?" Look at my blood under the lamp. Be frightened. I feel a little bad. "What did you use to wipe the nosebleed? It broke out when I heard me wipe it with those clothes by the bed. Neighbor woke up. . .

As a child, I was not only naughty, but also mean. When I was watching TV with my sister and mother, my mother asked, "What are those words floating on TV?"

When I saw the hospital advertisement, I said without thinking, "What happened to the hospital? Do you want to stay for two days? "

My mother didn't speak, and my sister was angry at the back. Scold me so much that I dare not speak.

I also ran away from home and took my friends to bridge opening. A village has come out to look for it. . .

There are many great achievements about me. I will be sensible when I grow up. Be a quiet girl. . Although sometimes it's stupid.

In my impression, it is very common for my mother to have a bad temper and beat and scold her children.

I remember being beaten for the first time when I was three or four years old. As a child, due to family planning, I was sent to my grandfather's home from birth and grew up beside his parents, so I have deep feelings for him.

I still remember that it was a summer, and my mother came by bike, as if she had left with food and clothing for many years. After lunch, grandpa took me, mom pushed the car and we followed him. I thought it was just an ordinary Fujian, but it was a little far, and I walked all the way to the village. Then my mother said, let's go. Reach out and hug me. I was shocked and burst into tears, holding my grandfather's leg and not letting go. Mom began to play. The bus palm fell from his face and his back ached. I still remember. I just wouldn't let go and hugged grandpa's leg. My grandfather stopped my mother to comfort me. I am in a hurry. I don't know how long I played and cried. I remember my grandfather always said I wouldn't go, and my mother had to drag me away, so I couldn't refute it. The atmosphere was once very stiff. In addition to my crying voice, there was my mother's evil voice, until I saw my grandfather crying and said why my mother was so stubborn. I saw my grandfather crying, and then I froze and stopped crying. I feel very uncomfortable in my heart. I had to let my mother put me in the back seat of my bike with tears in her eyes and ride away. I have been twisting my head and looking at my grandfather, crying silently until I can't see him at all. I dare not cry without grandpa.

In this way, I returned to my home. So I was particularly impressed by this fight.

Now that I have my own children, I tell myself that I can't hit them under any circumstances.

Because I know that my mother's fierce appearance, the way she hit people, and the way she yelled loudly will stay in my memory for a long time, maybe I will never forget it. Therefore, no matter how angry I am, I will control my emotions, talk to my children and be reasonable, and never hit them. I hope that the mother in the child's impression has always been gentle and kind.

I adopted my uncle as my son when I was three years old. Since childhood, my uncle's love for me can't be described in words.

But I remember once when I was seven or eight years old, I had a big black pig with a rope around my neck. Father asked me to put pigs on the mountain to eat grass. When I came back, the rope on the pig fell off. I don't know when it fell. I don't know if it is a hemp rope specially used for pigs. At this time, my father hit a chestnut on my head. This is the only time my father hit me.

I was an apprentice when I joined the work. I earn 22 yuan a month, and my family gave me three years as an apprentice. I am the only person in the factory who takes money from home.

My father has left me for 35 years. If he is alive, February 28th next year will be100th birthday. Every year in Tomb-Sweeping Day, I will take my son back to visit his father's grave and place my thoughts on him.

I remember when I was six years old, I watched my brother's red scarf hanging on a pole and fluttering in the wind. I had a whim. While there was no one at home, I divided by three times five, picked up scissors and cut the red scarf into several thin strips. I called a few friends, and after waiting in line, one of them sent one. I have some talent for dancing since I was a child, and I also led my friends to dance with me. What an honor!

My mother and brother who came back from outside found that the red stripes on our hands turned out to be cut red scarves, and my brother burst into tears with anger.