I don’t want them to grow up like you

Harboring so much of resentment

I don’t want them moping and grumpy

She said “I want Happy Children”

Two words that could mean so much

Her two words I so misconstrue

Two words I failed to understand

From my point of view

Is happiness letting them be?

Enjoying ones space to do as they please

Is happiness about turning a blind eye

No corrections, no monitoring, nothing please

The untidy room of a boy who doesn’t wear his shoes to play

Or the incomplete assignment book brought back from school

Those long eating sessions that drags on forever and ever

As if eating were life’s biggest punishment to do

Does the old adage spare the rod and spoil the child

Have no bearing at all in these modern times?

Or am I too rigid and a bit too old fashioned

To not interpret what’s written between the lines?

I freak at every small thing because of my strict upbringing

I worry of what will happen to them when they grow

I worry if I am being a good father enough to them

Preparing them for a future we don’t know

Will they have a sense of responsibility or a value for time?

Or will they bear any scars from their child hood, any resentment?

Will things change for the better notwithstanding what we do?

Will they look back in years from now and say "We were Happy Children"?

Written spontaneously on the 26 Jan 2007 when wifey and kids had gone home for a long weekend. I had lost my shirt over something my elder son had done - nothing too serious considering his age  but I guess I went overboard. This poem came to me as I sat there by myself feeling guilty and worried of what would become of the brats.