长辈的控制力，出于文化影响，子女是难以反抗的。这需要父母自己明智，知道如何进退。若对子女个人生活插手过多，找工作、买房、婚姻、带娃，哪里路不平哪里有他们。事情成就了，感觉得不到相应的赏识，又来抱怨，甚至自怜，觉得自己屎一把尿一把拉扯大，给你做这个做那个，一句好话都没有。如果子女已经成家，问题更为复杂：好一点的家长，会怪罪自己的孩子。不明智的家长，阴风吹向他们的对象，这又在小家庭中造成新的矛盾。

分寸感把握不当，通常来自界线和界限感的缺失 ——界线是指在关系中作出的合适划分，界限感是知道自己的局限在哪里，哪些线不要跨越。界线和界限意识是彼此成就的。没有界限意识的人也不会去理睬他人的界线，包括他人心目中不容跨越的红线。反过来，各方明确界线，也能强化彼此的界限意识，少一点碰撞和摩擦。

没有人知道“分寸”到底是什么，何为合适，何为不合适，人们对此的认知是不同的。过于讲究“分寸”会让人缩手缩脚。理想的状况，是明确界线，在合理的界线内，你可以完全自由，界线反而会拓展你的界限。这就好比邻居的院子之间建个篱笆，你不能不经同意，越过篱笆跑别人家里去。可在你自家的篱笆里，你只要不做违法乱纪的事，他人都无权干涉。有了这种界线，不胡乱越界，就不会号称“你的就是我的”，“你家我家分什么彼此”，一开始说得都好听，也确实是有良好初衷，但人性经不起各种水滴石穿的敲打。各种小摩擦会在界限感不明的情况下，造成各种新的误会和郁闷。先君子后小人的关系变化，何其多也。

有两首诗可以治愈这种糊里糊涂付出然后又怨天尤人后悔的父母：一是弗罗斯特的《修篱笆》。诗不看也可，记住其中的一句话：“好篱笆造就好邻居。”稍微改动一下：好篱笆造就好爹妈。

另外一首短诗是D·H·劳伦斯(D H Lawrence)写的《自怜》：“我从来没曾看到狂野之物/顾影自怜/一只小小鸟/即便受冻，死去，从树枝跌落/也决不自怜。”人间的关系错综复杂，是难以精算的账。很多时候，付出就付出了，不要转回头又觉得自己是受害者，开始同情自己不被理解。

生猛的生命，不会顾影自怜，也不会横冲直撞。

Mending Wall

By Robert Frost

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun;

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

The work of hunters is another thing:

I have come after them and made repair

Where they have left not one stone on a stone,

But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,

To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,

No one has seen them made or heard them made,

But at spring mending-time we find them there.

I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line

And set the wall between us once again.

We keep the wall between us as we go.

To each the boulders that have fallen to each.

And some are loaves and some so nearly balls

We have to use a spell to make them balance:

"Stay where you are until our backs are turned!"

We wear our fingers rough with handling them.

Oh, just another kind of out-door game,

One on a side. It comes to little more:

There where it is we do not need the wall:

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

My apple trees will never get across

And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

He only says, "Good fences make good neighbours."

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

If I could put a notion in his head:

"Why do they make good neighbours? Isn't it

Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offence.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That wants it down." I could say "Elves" to him,

But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather

He said it for himself. I see him there

Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.

He moves in darkness as it seems to me,

Not of woods only and the shade of trees.

He will not go behind his father's saying,

And he likes having thought of it so well

He says again, "Good fences make good neighbours."

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