Gita Sometimes I love you, sometimes maybe I love you, sometimes I hate you. Sometimes you are very evil. You get upset for what I did, then you punished me, asked me to clean up the mess, or trained me or something I disliked. Sometimes I feel you don’t love me. Me Have I swear at you? Have I hit you? Did not feed you? Did not look after you – when I was upset? Gita No. But you asked me to clean up the mess! And you used your cold voice!!! I hate it! Me When I am upset, I still love you. I call it: tough love.
It is a tough love, not only for you. It is tough for me too, my secret grieves and fears, Gita.
He that does not bring up his son to some honest calling and employment, brings him up to be a thief