My mom was the kindest, most gentle person in the world.
Once she was babysitting my sister’s kids and they got unruly (as usual) One of the girls was especially boisterous and obstinate. My mom reached out to restrain her from crashing into a glass display case and dislocated the kids shoulder. She took her to the emergency room where the doctors questioned her for an hour before calling the cops, who questioned her for another hour.
My mom was in tears when my dad showed up and read them the riot act (which he could do VERY well!). After all that we still got a call from CPS and had to endure their sneers and lectures.
We live in a post common-sense world.
I always err on the side of letting the parents get away with abuse. I take very seriously the motto, “not my kids”.
It has to be quite blatant before I’ll get involved. And I don’t mean seeing parents beating their kid in public. I mean seeing them SEVERELY beating their kid in public while smelling of Jack Daniels.
Not my kids. God gave them to someone else. I’ll intervene only when asked, unless the situation is unquestionably grievous.