This passage is slightly incorrect. It should be this: "What time is it?" Pedro asked Julia, who was sitting next to him. "It's 2:15," Julia said,
<span> "and we should start walking home now to be there by 3:00."</span>
It was after midnight last December and we were driving home from a party. The weather in Devon had been awful, with heavy rain on our 40-minute journey there, though not enough to make us worry about the drive back. We were in our Ford Ranger pick-up truck, which always felt safe. Paul, my husband, was driving and my seven-year-old son, Silas, was in the back.
What was so frightening was the speed of it. One minute we were halfway home and driving up to a familiar bridge, the next there was water rising over the bonnet. Deep floodwater was coursing across from a nearby railway line and surrounding fields, and we were caught in the middle of it. The volume of water lifted our car up and pushed it back against a hedge. We were silent; I felt over-awed by the power of the water, and Paul was trying to control the truck.
Water was instantly around my ankles. I reached my hand back and felt it around Silas's, too. Paul climbed out through a window, at which point Silas woke up, confused and disoriented. I managed to pass him through the window to Paul, who was now on the truck's roof.
Paul told me I needed to get out, but I couldn't open my door or window. I managed to push my body though the driver's window and was left clinging on to the support between the windows. I was terrified the truck would capsize, pinning me beneath. Paul was incredulous, asking me what I was doing in the water, and telling me I needed to climb on to the bonnet, but I couldn't reach. He grabbed my hood to help, but he was at a precarious angle and I could hear Silas crying, so I told him to let go – Silas needed him. He refused, but I insisted – I wanted to know Silas would be OK. As I saw his empty, outstretched hand, the water took me away. I'm a strong swimmer, but had no option but to shoot down the rapids. Shocked, tossed and buffeted, I gasped for breath and tried to keep my head above water. There was a horrendously loud noise, like a huge wall of bubbles swirling in my ears. Bewildered, I remember saying, "Oh God, oh God, oh God!" I never expected to die of drowning.
Washed over a garden wall, I joined the River Taw, 3.5m higher than normal and flowing at about 14mph. It was extremely dark but I could just make out trees. As I passed, I reached out and grabbed two branches no bigger than my index finger, with a perfect tight grip. Somehow my feet wedged in a firm foothold and I hugged the tree with my knees. One minute longer and I'd have been sucked beneath a railway bridge.
My plan was just to hold on. My body went into shock a few times and I would tremble involuntarily. I told myself it was a natural response, to conserve my energy and concentrate on not losing my foothold. Not knowing if Paul and Silas were dead or alive, I thought that if they did survive they would need me. After nearly 40 minutes, I saw a small spotlight. I started to shout for help. Someone glimpsed my movement and a firefighter tried to talk to me, but I couldn't hear her above the roar of the water.
The light of a helicopter made me out in the tree. Their heat-seeking equipment had traced me, but they could see I had no warmth in my lower body. They were concerned I would become hypothermic and lose my grip. The decision was made for the RNLI flood rescue team to get me. My husband, who had been rescued with my son in the bucket of a JCB, was nearby with a policewoman. She reassured him that so long as they could hear me, there was hope.
Guided to me by the helicopter, the rescue team managed to steer the boat to my shoulder. Four strong arms lifted me into the boat and I felt sheer relief and utter safety. As I kneeled to get out, I hugged one of my rescuers, Martin. I looked up to see an amazing array of 50 service personnel. I had no idea such activity had been taking place for me. I felt so high, I thanked everyone and wished them all a merry Christmas.
My rescuers were volunteers who have since received medals and I have an incredibly deep bond with them. In the isolation of that tree, I found a strength of character I didn't know I possessed – but I'm still flabbergasted I survived at all.
• As told to Sarah Smith.
Answer: The four style would be Authoritarian ( Focus on obediance, punishment over discipline), Authoritative (create positive relationship, enforce rules), Permissive (Doesn´t enforce rules, ¨kids will be kids¨), and Uninvolved (provides little guidance, nuturing, or attention)
Children who grow up with strict authoritarian parents tend to follow rules much of the time. But, their obedience comes at a price. They may also become hostile or aggressive. Rather than think about how to do things better in the future, they often focus on the anger they feel toward their parents. Since authoritarian parents are often strict, their children may grow to become good liars in an effort to avoid punishment.
Children raised with authoritative discipline tend to be happy and successful. They're also more likely to be good at making decisions and evaluating safety risks on their own.
Kids who grow up with permissive parents are more likely to struggle academically. They may exhibit more behavioral problems as they don't appreciate authority and rules. They often have low self-esteem and may report a lot of sadness. They're also at a higher risk for health problems, like obesity, because permissive parents struggle to limit junk food intake. They are even more likely to have dental cavities because permissive parents often don't enforce good habits, like ensuring a child brushes his teeth.
Children with uninvolved parents are likely to struggle with self-esteem issues.They tend to perform poorly in school. They also exhibit frequent behavior problems and rank low in happiness.
