A Sorry Tail, or a tale about listening to your kids....
As a father of two healthy, playful and generally "good" boys, the times when I have had to spank them are fairly few. I am an affectionate father and very close to them. We spend a great deal of time together as a family, something that I was not accustomed to as a child myself. I had a distant, but loving father whose job as a policeman so emotionally stressed and tired him out that he was unable to deal with me and left the discipline and parenting up to my mother.
Sean and Eric are 10 and 12 now, and while my wife is a firm believer in the adage about sparing the rod, I for one, having the spanking fetish since childhood, am aware that the practice of spanking can be a _s_e_x_ually loaded one for some kids.
That is why I now will spank only for very serious disobedience, misbehaviour or acts that endanger the boys' safety. This necessarily means that if a spanking is warranted, it will be one that precludes any _s_e_x_ual "enjoyment" by its severity. We recently had a conversation to that effect and it was actually an unpopular move with the boys. A firm spanking is a quick and painful way to deal with "bad stuff", one that they have been known to prefer over being grounded or loss of privileges, allowance, extra chores, etc. Nevertheless, I remain steadfast in my resolve not to spank unless they have violated the trust bond in a damaging way.
It hasn't always been that way, however.
Two years ago, when Eric was 10, we had company over discussing some important legal matters. The boys were asked to remain quiet and watch TV after doing their homework, which I promised I would review before school the next day. The lawyer and his assistant arrived after dinner and we showed them into the living room. Shortly after we began reviewing the papers, and while I was swearing an affidavit, Eric popped his head into the room.
"Dad?"
I ignored him since I was obviously busy, and couldn't he see that?
"Uh, Daddy? I hafta talk to you."
"Eric, we are busy here. It will have to wait. Remember what I told you? Now go see what Sean is doing. Mom left a snack for you guys in the fridge."
"But DAAAD!" he protested. I became irritated. Normally the boys do as they are told and don't question the parents authority. The little bugger! I was embarrassed to be disturbed from this very important company with what obviously (didn't he know?) could wait or have been discussed earlier.
" Eric! I said leave us, please, right now!" I growled. He walked away.
I looked at the distinguished $600.00-an-hour lawyer and sheepishly apologized for my kid's interruption. He shrugged and said: "Its okay. I have kids too. Everything is an emergency to them....now where were we? Oh yes, Section 12(a) subsection 1. Do you solemnly swear that the evidence you have given here touching the matters in question between the accused at bar and Her Majesty the Queen is the truth, the whole truth and noth...."
"Mom? Daddeee? Hey! Hey! I gotta tell you that....."
There he was again, nervously begging for my wife to acknowledge him. She, however never looked up--she just pointed to the stairs and both of us more or less yelled "Git!"
He got.
I had stood up and I guess he figured he better do as he was told. As he left I saw the look of consternation and almost panic on his face. I should have clued in, then. Disrespect almost never happens in my home. There must be a reason, but we were too preoccupied to grab that thought.
Five minutes passed, and no Eric. Good, he will behave now. I must make a point of talking with that boy about his timing, I thought. And about why sometimes I can't just drop what I am doing to give him my undivided attention over some trivial kid thing.
We adults resumed what we were doing. That's why I never saw Eric carefully pick up the lady's car keys and go outside to the driveway.
I should explain that both boys have been instructed on the proper way to put a car into park, use the emergency brake, etc., if they should ever need to when left alone for a minute in one. I am a paramedic and I once responded to a call where a toddler was in a truck when it suddenly slipped into drive and crashed into the supermarket.
I heard a car starting outside, but thought nothing of it. Seconds later, I heard a tremendous BANG! against the front room wall. The window shattered and glass came in everywhere. I jumped to my feet as the room shook. Rushing to the room I saw, through the shattered glass, Eric, behind the wheel of the car, his eyes blasted wide open by the shock of hitting the wall, a look of disbelief on his cute face.
"WHAT IN THE HELL....WHY....HOLY LORD LIGHTENIN' JESUS KID! WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT THERE?!!," I bellowed.
I ran towards the front door as my wife, the lawyer and the assistant came running in. I passed them, running out to the car. Eric was halfway out of the driver's side, the grill smashed, headlights busted, fenders warped and the alarm system suddenly beginning to scream.
I grabbed Eric by the arm and pulled him free of the door. Terrified and enraged at him for apparently being so stupid as to drive the lady's Lexus into the house as a stunt, I pushed him towards the door of the house.
"Get your ass into your room this INSTANT!," I yelled. Eric was still too shocked to clearly speak, he just half babbled something about "I didn't mean, oh no. It was gonna be ....hit .... I am sorrree!" as I directed him into the house and to the bottom of the stairs.
"Not half as sorry as you will be! I don't give a _s_h_i_t_ WHAT you were doing out there, Eric. I don't want to even know! How in the hell am I going to pay for this? Oh My God, son. Get upstairs and get into your pyjamas before I redden your bum right here!"
Eric was flabbergasted and disoriented, made worse by my shoving him up the stairway and then onto his bed. I never said a word to him, just slammed the door. I went back downstairs and as calmly as I could decided what I would say to the lawyer. I remember babbling about the insurance, apologizing profusely and hopping up and down in a mixture of emotions that I couldn't interpret. The lawyer and his clerk hastily finished what we were doing, and then left to go outside, examining the damage my little delinquent had just caused, before driving away with one headlight hanging out facing the ground.
My wife was similarly shocked into silence. When we got back into the house I flew upstairs and into Eric's room, stopping only to grab the hairbrush we keep for spankings. I burst through his door as Eric had his pants off and was about to put on /pull up his PJ bottoms.
"Oh no you don't," I screeched. I grabbed him by the waist and jerked him over to the bed. He saw the hairbrush and started to protest, realizing his bottom was about to be incinerated. He barely had time to start to speak when I had him upended over my lap, his face winding up pushed into his pillow. Instantly I had his Pj's jerked back down to his knees, then I grabbed his briefs and half tore them as I pulled them down also. I wrenched him back down onto his tummy and he couldn't even squirm since I had him pinned so tightly. His hand reached around him and laid upon his bum before I angrily slapped his thigh with the brush. The pain shocked him and he reached to grab his thigh, where an angry red oval mark had already formed. I grabbed the wrists and pinned them to his back.
Everything seemed to be a blur, for both of us. I moved so fast I barely heard him yelling something into the pillow, all I saw was red, and all I heard was some muffled boy babblings and begging. I know I was yelling at him about being careless, stupid, empty headed and cursing epithets much louder than his not inconsiderable protests, but I didn't care. I was going to spank the living BE-Jesus outta him, right NOW! Nothing he could possibly say would do anything other than enrage me even more.
Bare bum now exposed, me trembling with anger and him with terror, I raised the brush up and smacked him as sharply as I could on his left bottom cheek. I did the same with the right, then began to pound away with the hairbrush on his sorry little behind:
WHAP! WHACK! WHUMP! WHACK WHACK WHACK!
Eric's response to the assault on his trembling bottom skin was to first arch his back and attempt to turn off my lap. I fiercely pinned him down and continued to spank him as hard as I could. I had delivered about 10 or so solid WHACK! spanks and his bottom was fast reddening where the wooden brush had connected. They came so fast Eric didn't start to cry like normally, he just screeched "Arrrroooooowwweeee" in a rising crescendo and then broke down into a loud wailing, punctuated by yelps and shrieks as I continued to pummel his bottom. His bum skin would go white for a brief second only to rush into a red streak even before the next swat landed. His wails increased in volume and he kicked his legs until his underwear flew off his ankles and across the room.
WHAP! WHAP! FWAP! WHACK! WHACK! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
WHAP! WHAP! FWAP! WHACK! WHACK! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
WHAP! WHAP! FWAP! WHACK! WHACK! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
I noticed I was breathing hard and my arm was aching from the exertion but I still continued. Eric was jerking violently, his bottom opening and closing rhythmically like a clamshell, wriggling squirming and screeching incoherently.
His bottom was by now mottled red and dark pink and I saw a few welts begin to rise.
WHAP! WHAP! FWAP! WHACK! WHACK! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
WHAP! WHAP! FWAP! WHACK! WHACK! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
WHAP! WHAP! FWAP! WHACK! WHACK! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
I went over his whole bottom with the brush, and even once or twice caught him on the inside of his bum cheeks as he bucked and twisted. I caught his anus by accident.... saw him straighten up his body, pointing his toes like an arrow straight out, and he let out a scream that my dead grandmother could hear 50 miles away. The effort of this was such that it deflated his lungs like a balloon and he was unable to cry out, much less breathe. He gave up the struggle and collapsed limply on my lap, his only response to my continued onslaught being his feet pedalling and him pounding the pillow with his forehead, up and down.
The reason I never spank in anger is to prevent losing total perspective and control, But this time I did. I kept at him for at least another 20 or so smacks and was going over some patches on his bottom all over again, aiming, I guess, to even out the red spots.
I became aware of a strong hand on my back
"That's ENOUGH! STOP! He's had enough, Brad!" My wife was there, but I hadn't seen her come in, so intent was I in my whaling the tar out of Eric's naughty bottom. She grabbed my arm and jerked as hard as she could, causing me to drop the brush. I unceremoniously dumped Eric off my lap and he landed on his back, where I saw his face screwed into a contortion of agony, the only sound being a high pitched almost supersonic squeal. I wasn't satisfied yet so I flipped him over again and spanked him across the small of his back and his thighs with my hand at least 12 times before I stormed out of the room.
Eric caught his breath again and broke out into caterwauling wails and sobs. I went to the bathroom and my wife went in to Eric to comfort him, I suppose. When I came back some ten minutes later he was alone again, lying on his tummy, pants still off and hiccupping sobs as he tried to calm himself. I looked at his bottom, there, red and raw and it suddenly occurred to me how much I must have hurt him. I began to calm myself as I sat down beside him. He was angry.
"G-G-go away!" he tearfully yelped.
"I'm finished, Eric. Calm down, sonshine. That's a boy, easy, easy, It's all over." As I put my hand on his back, he rolled himself up into a foetal position and turned away from me. Okay, thought I, he's mad. So I went to get a wet facecloth and a cold pack. I put it across his puffy and crimson bottom and I winced when I saw he had a few bruises. Still, though, the ice seemed a welcome relief and he calmed down very quickly, still refusing to look at me.
"Why did you do that, Eric? What were you thinking? You know better than to play around with a car!"
Sniffling, he wiped his nose and pushed himself up on one elbow.
"I was trying to TELL you, Dad, but you didn't listen!!!" he protested with a wail.
"Listen to what?" I asked him.
"I came into the living room but you guys were busy and you yelled at me---that car, the one I crashed, I didn't mean to, Daddeee, really---it had slipped into reverse and down the driveway. It was sitting in the street blocking the road. I only meant to MOVE it!" and he began to cry again.
I was dumbstruck. Thunderous self-abuse ran through my head as I realized that Eric had done what he had done because he was trying to be helpful and after we wouldn't acknowledge him. But I hadn't heard him say that....then again, I wasn't listening, either. "You stupid arrogant self-righteous mean old bastard!" I yelled at myself. Guilt flooded through me. I had just spanked my son to the point of injury and it-- the spanking, the yelling, the accident-- was preventable if I had merely listened. I know my kids better than that, I thought. He wouldn't – couldn't dream of such a deed without a reason. What the hell was the matter with me?
I began to cry, weeping and I lay over the form of my prone son. Tears dripped on him from my eyes. The two of us lay there bawling together, him indignant, me ashamed like I had never been. It took me a while to regain my composure.
Eventually, I pleaded with Eric for his forgiveness, and he hugged my neck, causing me to cry again. But he eventually did forgive me. Forget, never. Either of us. I learned a valuable lesson that day and thereafter pledged to listen first....FIRST. Then act.