On being mistaken

A bit of backstory for context: In my culture (Indonesian/asian,) the elders usually say, “let them be. Once they got their own taste of medicines, they will stop doing it,” whenever a young child acted up/refused to listen. For example, a child jumped on a sofa. The elders usually say, “let them be. Once they fall, they know that it hurts and they’ll stop doing it.”

I was mistaken on my youngest daughter.

She fell down from her brother’s bunkbed (she’s 4 years old and I think she’s living up to her name: Rey. Yes, that Rey from Star Wars) because she slipped and missed a step; her cheek is now purple because of the bruises.

“They’ll know it hurts and they’ll stop doing it.”

30 minutes later, a shouting match ensued. The big brother yelled, “NO! You can’t be careless! I don’t want you to climb again and– and– try to hang upside down! No! You have to be careful!”

His words got cut off by a sound that I can safely say a mix of pterodactyl got trapped inside a refrigerator and vicious geese attacking me when I was a wee little girl, walked home from school.

When we found out her room now has her art masterpiece in form of mural




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