This morning, our ritual fell apart— beautifully. The words were new, the rhythm still unfamiliar, and somewhere between the third line and the next gesture, she simply froze.
I waited. She tried to remember. Then we both started laughing. By the time we reached the end, the ritual was gone—replaced by something softer, truer, more alive.
People often assume that discipline must always be serious. But for me, humor isn’t a threat to authority—it’s a part of it. Even as head of the household, I lose nothing by laughing with her. If anything, it makes the structure stronger.
Because real discipline isn’t about perfection. It’s about rhythm, trust, and presence—and sometimes, presence means laughing when the script falls apart.
Discipline matters. But laughter keeps the system supple.
🕯️ Full essay—Discipline, Interrupted—now on Substack.
