Childhood

I have so much on my mind today, and as I begin to write, I can’t help but wonder what life would be like if I were a child today. I have five siblings; two of us are girls the other four are boys. I am number four in the pecking order with two older brothers and two younger ones. I remember being such a tomboy as a child; I wanted to do all the things my brothers could do. I played with cars, climbed trees, played football, got into fights, and hated dresses. I’m sure I declared hundreds of times I would have no children and that I would go to college and then off to see the world. I truly believed I could be anything I wanted to be if I worked hard for it. During this time, I was forced to eat beans and broccoli, take baths, and bedtime. We were not allowed to eat candy for breakfast or ice cream sundaes for dinner. We had chores, school work, and manners all forced on us to explain that we were to grow up able to be productive, responsible adults. As we grew to be preteens, each of us questioned the choices our parents made for us; we wanted to be independent and choose for ourselves. My father always had the same answer for each one; “what you want today will hurt you tomorrow.” It made me angry sometimes, especially when he told me I was too old to play football with the boys. It was not long after that I began to dress differently, wear makeup, and enjoy those same boys’ attention. I now have twin sons and two grandsons, and a husband that I love. I now understand broccoli is good for me, and sleep and education are essential to my mental health. I enjoy taking care of my home and making it warm and inviting for guests. As an adult looking back, I realize if left to my own choices as a child, I would be uneducated, lazy, and have rotted teeth.

I’m not reminiscing about the “good old days”; I’m troubled about the shift in parenting. I don’t see children having tantrums in the veggie department begging for broccoli, but I see plenty of fourteen-year-olds with greasy hair. This morning I cried for the children in bondage to sex traffickers, who live in homes where they are physically and mentally abused, and now for the ones that are being mutilated by their trend-setting parents. I can’t say that I agree with any identification confusion, but it is child abuse to chemically castrate a child and change their gender. The best part of children is their freedom in imagination; to dream about being a fireman one day and a ballerina the next. What child doesn’t want to be their favorite superhero or just like the person they admire? Don’t children constantly change as they grow? Hey Doc, my child wants to be Spider-Man; how much does that cost? We have women walking around dressed like a vagina spouting out that girls can be anything they want and do anything they want and fighting for selfish, drama-seeking parents to take that right away. Webster’s definition of child abuse “physical maltreatment or sexual molestation of a child.” My five-year-old grandson wore a cape to the grocery store and carried a little stuffed duck everywhere he went, but he doesn’t want to be a super farmer. My three-year-old grandson dresses up like a cat-boy and says cat-speed when he runs, but he is not really that fast. I understand that we have become a canceled culture and that everything good is now evil and evil is now good, but I can’t stay silent anymore. We have a drug epidemic; children are stolen and killed or sold, mass shootings, and the thirty pieces of silver are not worth our souls. Our race to the moral high ground of political correctness has been nothing but a farce to divert the lying, cheating, corrupt takeover of our government. The eccentrically wealthy have nothing else to conquer but the sheep quietly hoping to catch a crumb from their table. When will we stand up and protect our children? We have sold out the American dream for the American handout and the quietly slipping on our bling shackles just hoping for a free iPad.