So as I have been alluding to in my previous post as well as the comments section, I decided to relate a story of a spanking I received as a child. I will be relating this in two parts. If after the this part you feel this is not something you want to read, just skip this and the second part that will follow.
Kids are stupid. It doesn't make them bad or evil or unlovable, but the truth is the truth. Kids are stupid. How do I know? Well for starters I was a kid once and as I look back on my childhood I can't help but cringe at myself when I realize just how stupid I was. I was not a dumb kid in fact I was a relatively bright and smart and did well in school and all that, but that did not change the fact that I was just stupid. I could fill a book with all the stupid things that I have done but there was one particular stupid thing that I did that this story is about and that happened when I was 7 years old.
My mother and I were visiting one of her friends, a friend who had a 10 year old daughter. Now when you are 7 years old, you are not mature enough to consider the fact that your mother has a life outside of you. Yes, she is your mother and she will always do the best she can for you, but she is entitled to have a life apart from you. She is entitled to have adult friends and to want to spend time with them.
Now at 7 I did not appreciate my mother's right to have adults friends. Now that I am an adult and look back on it, I respect and appreciate the fact that my mother was able to have close friendships with other adults. I get that now, but as an adult you would think that my mother would have realized that just because she was friends with someone doesn't automatically mean that I am friends with that friend's child.
So here I was at the house of one of my mother's friends and I am expected to play with her 10 year old daughter. Not because we are friends, not because we have a common interest, but for no other reason except that she's the daughter of my mother's friend. So instead of playing together I sat there at the kitchen table with my mother and her friend bored out of my skull. After all, this was back in the days when we did not have all kinds of portable electronic devices to keep kids occupied. All there was was a single TV set and the daughter already had that tied up with one of her stupid programs.
Being a typical 7 year old, I of course kept asking the eternal question that all 7 year olds ask when they are bored, "When are we leaving?"
My mother, growing every more impatient just kept telling me to hush up and to go play with..., well let's see we need to give her a name for the story, let's call her Jill,
"The adults are talking, go and play with Jill!", not her exact words as it was a long time ago, but that was essentially the tone of what she was saying.
I walked from the kitchen to the living-room where Jill was watching TV, sat on the couch for all of 2 second then decided that I waited long enough and went back to the kitchen to repeat my inquisition.
"Can we go now?", I whined
"Stop it child!" my mother admonished and told me to stop being annoying.
Well, I am not stupid, or so I thought at the time, and realized that constantly asking to leave was not a strategy worth pursuing, so I resorted to batting her pocket book which was slung over the back of the kitchen chair. I kind of started swinging it like it was a tether ball. It would keep bouncing off the chair and swing back and I would push it again so it was push, thump, push, thump as the speed and frequency picked up as it continued to smack the back of my mothers chair.
She turned around, grabbed the bag and quickly told me to, "Knock it off! Stop being so annoying, go back and watch TV or play or something."
Well I shuffled off again back to the living-room where Jill was, but this time I didn't bother to sit down, but instead just walked right back into the kitchen. Bored out of my skull, I was desperate to leave and when you are 7 years old and absolutely bored, you make 'poor choices.'
Now, because for me this is such a strong part of my memory, I guess a few details are in order. It was summer, it was hot, I was 7 years old. It seems during this time the official summer uniform for a boy my age was a yellow tank top t-shirt with white trim, a pair of those really really short elastic gym shorts, green if I remember correctly, flip-flops and a pair of briefs. That was all I was wearing and it exposed a lot of skin. I remember it so vividly mostly because of this memory, but also because of pictures of me wearing that same outfit from vacation photos.
Jill was wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts that were longer than my gym shorts, although not by much and a regular t-shirt. I don't remember her clothes as much, but pretty sure that's what she was wearing.
So anyway, I walked back into the kitchen and the whole process started all over again. "Can we go now?"
"Enough, if you don't stop annoying us you are going to 'get it'" of course I should have known what 'get it' meant. After all I was only 7 years old. This was back in the days that when you are 7 years old there are not too many ways to 'get it'. At that time and date it really only meant a spanking. So of course, I stopped asking, but then went back to my game of pocket book tether ball.
Well, Jill must have sensed something was about to happen because she walked into the room and opened the refrigerator to get herself something to drink. There I was with the pocket book again, push, thump against the back of the chair. Then, without any further warning it happened.
Calmly I heard my mother say to her friend, "Excuse me a second." She stood up and I jumped back from the chair. I should not have been surprised. After all, the warning were numerous and clear. Any rational person would have adjusted their behavior, but of course I was a child and was stupid. I was motivated not by any rational decision, but my emotional desire to leave.
My heart quickly began beating faster. I glanced quickly at Jill who was standing a mere 2 feet away then back to my mother. I quickly though to myself, 'she wouldn't spank me here with Jill in the room. Would she?'
My answer was quick and swift. She grabbed my arm and lifted me up ever so slightly so that I was stretched on my toes and she deliver 3 or 4 quick sharp smacks to the seat of my shorts. I yelped at the blows, but they were quick and I really did not get the opportunity to cry or scream. It was over so quick. I was more humiliated by the display than I was hurt by the pain.
I already wanted to crawl under a rock at the humiliation of being spanked in front of Jill, even if it was a quick show, but the real humiliation came when my mother grabbed my other arm, bent over slightly and strongly warned, "Now, the next time your pants will be coming down!"
She let me go and I quietly walked back to the living-room and sat on the couch. A few minutes later Jill walked in and sat down on the couch next to me. I shuddered at the sudden proximity given what she had just witnessed and I shifted a little nervously, but otherwise remained on the couch.
She was speaking quietly and softly, but obviously she had been intrigued by the show and could not help but start asking questions.
"Sorry that happened to you. Do you get spanked a lot?"
Well, I did not know what a lot meant. I certainly got my fair share of spankings but they were by no means 'a lot' so I quietly nodded no.
"Did it hurt?"
Well, it didn't so I quietly nodded no. Then the tough question came. I almost knew it was coming.
"Do you really think your mother would pull your pants down if you did it again?"
I knew my mother. I knew if I did it again my pants would absolutely come down. She doesn't make empty threats like that, but I just shrugged my shoulders in the 'I don't know gesture.'
"Has she ever pulled your pants down for a spanking before?"
Of course I could have just told her to leave me alone and stop asking me questions, but I didn't. I also didn't answer. She correctly took that as a yes.
"I bet she pulls your pants down when she spanks you at home. You are lucky she did not pull your pants down this time."
To that, for some reason I did nod yes. More to the fact that I was grateful she did not pull my pants down, but I guess I also acknowledged that she frequently did pull my pants down. In fact my mother pulled my pants down for spankings most of the time, although at 7 it was not like I had years of spanking history to go by. Looking back however, I was spanked until I was 12 and for most of those I had my pants pulled down. This was actually one of the few where I got to keep them up.
"Don't worry," Jill reassured me, "lots of kids get spanked, its no big deal."
I wasn't sure if that made me feel better or not. Was she admitting that she got spanked? Did she consider herself a little kid? Was that really meant to make me feel better or worse? Who knows?
With that she went back to watching TV and I sat there on the couch sulking and being bored out of my mind again.
Like I said in the beginning, kids are stupid, so about 15 minutes later I walk back into the kitchen. I stood there quietly listening trying to decide if the conversation was winding down. Then it started again like nothing ever happened.
"Can we go now?"
My mother turns to me, a little angry, "I suggest you just go sit back in the living room before you do something you will regret."
She resumes her conversation. I stand there for a few seconds then to this day I still don't understand what I was thinking. I whack the pocket book again and then thump! It hits the back of the chair. At that moment Jill appears in the doorway to the kitchen as my mother rises from her chair.
Like I said. Kids are stupid.
To be continued...Maybe.
