To say something or not to say something . . .

That is the question.

It's funny how you notice new things. When Kristie was pregnant, I suddenly started noticing pregnant women everywhere. Then when Kenzie was born, I spotted people with babies left and right. Now, though, that we have begun to take Kenzers out in public more and sometimes have to deal with her becoming frustrated or a bit cranky (albeit this has rarely happened but I won't be a fool and think that it won't in the future), now I see disciplining their kids often.

The question I'd like to hear from you, faithful reader, is when should I say something? Or should I just keep my mouth shut?

Here are some examples.

At the art fest last Sunday we found a nice shady spot down by the river to cool and change Kenzie. It was not long before others began to seek similar shady spots. One mother laid her young child down - it had to be under 18 months for it was still in diapers and had a pacifier in. However, when the child wouldn't hold still to have her diaper changed the mother grew angry and began spanking and scolding the child.

Do you say something? It's not like the child was throwing a full blown tantrum. I mean it was a baby!

A few minutes later a father pulled up on his bike with a few children in a pull along cart. One of the kids was insisting on wanting to go to one of the large blow up castles on either side of the river to jump around. The catch was that it was a dollar to enter.

"No. I told you no. I don't want to hear you ask again. You have a trampoline at home. Jump on that," he said.

I could see his point. Then Kristie commented, "If you know your kid is going to want to go on the ride, why bike them right past them? Why even bring them to this type of event."

I thought that was an excellent point. I mean why would you take you kids to the movie and not them get any popcorn? Why didn't he just choose another bike path or keep his kids at home and play with them on the trampoline?

Finally, after our doctor's visit, Kenzers and I made a stop of Playland. As I was getting her situated, I noticed two young boys (around four or five) playing Legos (my kind of kids!). Their grandfather and grandmother sat at a table a little ways away.

"Let's go," the grandfather stated in a tone that, as an adult, I knew that he meant business.

They, however, continued to play.

Finally, he stomped over to them and cornered one of the boys, who said that he didn't want to go, and the grandfather growled, "Do you want me to smack you in the mouth? Now let's go!"

Now, these are all taken out of context. We don't know if these instances were straws that broke the camel's back, so to speak.

But should I have said anything?

Part of me wanted to say something to the grandfather, but I held back. I could hear my father in the back of my mind, "Well, the boys should have got a move on" or "maybe it would have done them some good."

I couldn't help but think back to how Dad disciplined me. I can probably count on one hand the times I've been spanked (likewise, I can count on one hand the times Mom washed my mouth out with soap). Did either modify my behavior? I'm not sure. But I do know that Mom and Dad were loathe to discipline children in public. Or at least they were that way with me (I'm sure my older brother and sister pushed them to their limits, but I never did!!!).

I recall the last time Dad really disciplined me. It was the first summer on the farm (1984) and I had yet to turn 11.

It was our first time baling hay. Mom drove the tractor while Dad and I handled the bales. Well, I was never one to enjoy getting dirty, so when we finished a trailer, I hopped off to shake all the alfalfa leaves from my shirt and pants and other uncomfortable areas.

I didn't know that Dad was in a hurry and wanted to hook up another trailer right away and keep baling.

When he didn't see me, he stormed around to the back of the trailer and saw me there and shook me around some and yelled at me to get back to work.

Well, I was mad and embarrassed. It was the first time I ever swore at my dad. I tried not to cry - knowing Mom was watching from the tractor - but I cursed Dad under my breath but loud enough for him to hear.

Later he apologized saying how he was in a hurry and had I explained to him what I was doing, he would not have reacted that way. I understood his point. Had I just helped him hook up another trailer, we could have taken a quick break.

I got over it. But Dad never really did. Numerous times when he and I would be talking about baling hay or getting into trouble he would bring up how bad he felt about that incident. The last time he did was when we were going to one of his doctor appointments. I was telling him about some trouble Casey and KoKo got into and how well Kristie had handled it. Then Dad again brought up the baling hay incident and expressed his sorrow.

Dad might have defended the grandfather threatening to smack the boy in the mouth, but Dad was also haunted by what he actually did to me.

Had I said something, would it have made any difference? Or would it have shamed them into realizing how bad they were treating their kids? Or if they treat their kids like this in public, what do they do in private? Or is this all making a mountain out of a mole hill?

Let me know what you think and offer any of your own experiences or examples.