I was never hit as a child. Never popped, smacked, whupped, beaten, or whacked. I
was spanked a few times. A
very few times. They must've done it right, because I can remember every one of them and can solemnly swear that it never needed to be done twice for the same offense. If I was "acting up" in the grocery store, say, there'd be one (and only one) "Stop that right now." from Mom. This was a clue. Should the behavior continue, there was only one more warning; the sidelong, meaningful glance with raised eyebrow. On the one occasion I was dumb enough to continue past this point, sentence was then pronounced thusly (sing along with me, now) "
Wait til your father gets home.". The ultimate pronouncement of Doom. What was normally the most joyous time of my day had just *poof!* been converted to the hour of my execution. A pall fell over my mood. When we got home, I was sent to the holding cell (my room) to await sentence. The sound of dad's car pulling into the driveway would send a chill up my spine. Surely, he already knew something was wrong, since I didn't go flying down the sidewalk to meet him like always. I'd hear him come in the house, and the hushed murmur of grownup voices conferring downstairs. Ooohh! He'll be so sad, now, because this means we can't race slot cars tonight, or run his trains or watch
Mission Impossible or
Get Smart together. I've ruined Dad's night! Footsteps come up the stairs and stop at the end of the hallway, by the bathroom door. "Tamara, come here." That was the second worst part- 'Dead kid walking!'. Dragging my little feet down the hall, already in tears. "What did you do?" You gotta tell the truth, cause you know Mom told him, and you feel like a total heel when after reciting the litany of your offenses he looks at you mournfully and says "You know I hate doing this, I wish you wouldn't make me." What a putz I am! I've let down the team! He gestures into the bathroom. Two or three formal whacks on the butt and it's over, except for the silent hug and "Tamara, please don't ever do that again, and I won't have to do this again. Okay?" Dinner without desert, and off to bed early.
In retrospect, looking back as an adult, none of the spankings ever really hurt. But that didn't matter. I would do
anything to avoid hurting my folks feelings that way again. I believe they may have both worked in PsychOps before I came along, now that I think about it, 'cause they
sure were good at it...
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"..but never ever Fear. Fear is for the enemy. Fear and Bullets."
10mm: It's not the size of the Dawg in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog!