I feel the sharp fingernails of despair and frustration claw at me

We're sitting around the Shabbos table,  and I’m scooping (store-bought, of course) chocolate flake ice cream into cones and handing one to each kid. “Here you go, Motty,” I say, and hand my ten-year-old his.

He smiles and licks the cone. A white mustache forms on his upper lip.

“Hey!” my 12-year-old pipes up. “You said Motty isn’t allowed dessert because he sneaked cookies this morning.”

I freeze, ice cream scoop midair.

Motty freezes, ice cream cone midair.

I feel the sharp fingernails of despair and frustration claw at me.

If you want to raise children, you’ve really got to follow through with your consequences.

But to do that you have to remember that you promised them a consequence.