“Guy, go get me a switch. This muthafucker done pissed the bed again.”

It wasn’t a switch but more like branch.  Guy got pleasure watching his mother beat my ass and me run from the switch. When you’re that age, you don’t know who they are.  I didn’t know who I was.  I knew my name and that was it.  I didn’t know if Nana was my mother, grandmother.  I was just existing, I was just there.  At that age I knew who my three nemeses were; Nana, Emma and Guy.

The other kids would taunt me saying “Ouuu, you gonna get beat."

This was a daily routine.  I knew I was getting my ass whipped when I woke up in the morning.

Because of this I don’t beat my children.  My theory is what are you going to do when the child is too big to beat?  There needs to be consequences for your actions but it must be done with love.

What’s the difference between a spanking and a beating?

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