Ugh. My neighbors.
I am not a fan.
As if I didn’t have enough issues with the long hair, long denim skirt, submit to your husband, and keep to your own kind sect. Now we find out that they use corporal punishment on their children as witnessed by the lashes Jack witnessed the Mister giving his oldest son a few days back. Fantastic.
They don’t know that he saw it, but they will. I just can’t decide what way to go about letting them know that I know. Right now Jack and I are favoring, “Amy! It’s time for your nightly belt whoopin’! Get in here in the name of God!” We like to stand on the back porch and holler that at day’s end. I’ve instructed our girls to call the new shed we put up “The Prayer Barn as ‘Git in the prayer barn'” just in case the neighbors might be listening. It’s a mouthful, but the payoff will be delicious.
Jack did suggest a subtle, “If you’re going to beat your children you might want to close the windows” approach, but I nixed that.
Really, this is a difficult position to be in. It happened in their home. It didn’t break any laws. The boy was still able to walk and talk after. They otherwise obviously love their children very much. To be honest, I’m not sure if we’re in a position to say anything. Plus, I’m a parent, I know how far kids can push you. Especially kids who are nearly 16 and stretching their wings. But wow. A belt whompin’ at 16 years old. That can’t be healthy, right?