The sounds of several boys engaged in noisy play emanated from the rumpus room downstairs on a fall Friday night. Sean, my 10-year-old son, had a friend Kelly. He was staying the weekend with us as we had plans to go to an IMAX theatre show, then go carting at a local outside track. Kelly is a bright and exceptionally polite boy who pretty much stays out of trouble, and he and Sean are the best of mates. A group of other friends were also playing over, but only Kelly was staying this weekend.
It sounded to me like the boys were engaged in war or some other epic battle game because of the periodic firing of a cap gun of Kelly's. Our sons (the second, Eric, is 13) don't own any war toys or toy guns because my wife is opposed to violence in play. But I didn't really see the harm this night.
Figuring the boys might be in need of some "field rations" on their battlefield, I started downstairs with colas and some chips for them. They were so engrossed in play they never noticed me enter the room. But as I did, I instantly became horrified at the sight that greeted me. The .22 cal rifle I keep on a rack above the fireplace had been taken down and was in the hands of Sean, who was pointing it in the direction of the "enemy line." The gun is always unloaded, and since the boys have been taught since infancy that playing with or touching the gun(s) I own results in an unpleasantly warm bottom, I never locked it to the rack – a situation I would soon rectify.
"Sean Patrick Wheeler! What in the hell are you doing with that? Put it down RIGHT NOW!" I shouted. Sean's face drained of its colour as he realized he was busted. But he walked quickly to the mantle and replaced the rifle in its cradle, then stood there staring at me waiting for my next pronouncement.
" Okay guys," I said to the now dead quiet room, "what are you doing playing with a real rifle? And without a grownup here"? Or words to that effect. I was seeing red -- like blood on the rug.
Nobody answered my enquiry. Most of the six were making in depth studies of their feet on the carpet, but nobody dared to volunteer an answer. Finally, Kelly timidly spoke up.
" It was sort of all of our idea, sir. We were all taking turns with it, ya know, cuz it's like a REAL gun and stuff. But its not loaded!"
I launched into a turbocharged lecture on the danger of pointing guns, even unloaded ones, of touching things that were off limits, etc., etc. Then I sent everybody home after telling them I would be in touch with their parents. Kelly's face fell when he realized that I probably meant the show was over for him, too. But as he started to walk away, I called him.
"Kelly! Stay here please. I want to talk with you and Sean about how we are going to deal with this. You have a choice of staying here and getting punished together with Sean or I can drive you home and tell your dad, but that's up to you."
He exchanged glances with Sean. " But if Sean is grounded, then what am I...."
"Who said anything about being grounded? We have plans this weekend to go out as a family and you were welcomed to stay over with us" I said. "There's going to be some pretty serious lecturing and a good bare bum spanking for Sean, that's for sure. You can stay and be punished likewise -- it's not going to change our plans for the weekend. It's YOUR choice, son," I said.
Sean spoke. " Daddy....please no, not a spanking in front of Kelly -- I am sorry--, please....."
I cut him off as he begged hopping from foot to foot.
"Sean, you have broke the rule about touching my gun and you know I have to punish, yes, spank you for it. It is dangerous, disobedient, and there's no debate, son. And Kelly, like I said, you too will get a bare butt spanking, but only if you still want to stay over and come with us for our family weekend."
Kelly looked confused. I knew that as a matter of course he was rarely spanked by his parents, but as a parent myself I also knew they would be deeply alarmed and frightened by the boys' playing with real rifles. I imagined that there was some heated debate going on inside Kelly's head and probably feelings of entrapment between two unpleasant choices, and I wondered if his dad would spank Kelly for a "gun" thing. I didn't wait very long, however, before pressing for my answer.
" Okay Kel. Do I take you home and have a chat with your dad or do you get a sore butt here and we forget about it afterwards? Maybe you figure your dad is going to tan your ass anyway so you might as well go home?"
"I'm really sorry Mr. W," Kelly said. "It was wrong of me to play with that gun."
" I am glad you recognize that, Kelly. It was foolish, dangerous and Sean knows better, so it was also wilfully disobedient. You can understand why you must be punished then, right?"
" Yes sir. But if you spank me, does it mean I have to show my bare bum to you? My dad doesn't make me pull my pants down for spankings like Sean has to."
Sean stood listening to our exchange and I sensed he had resigned himself to a thorough spanking by now. He was curious where that left Kelly, though.
"Sean and Kelly, listen to me", I started. "I am done lecturing the two of you. I have made my reasons for needing to punish you abundantly clear. I am going to spank you both tonight, because to ground you would ruin the weekend we have planned and I am sure you don't want that. So in answer to your question, Kelly, yes I will expect you to pull your pants down so I can spank your bare bottom until I feel you've learned your lesson. You will also be turned over my knee for some spanking of your butt with my hand. You will have a sorry and very red behind afterwards, I guarantee These will all occur in the next half-hour, after the two of you have showered and put on your pyjamas. Any questions?" I concluded.
There was silence and floor-stares. So I dismissed the boys up to the bathroom.
" Okay guys, please go shower because you reek of play sweat. Then put on your pyjamas and wait in Sean's room. Sean, ask your brother for the bath brush hanging in his closet, the one I use to spank, and take it back to your room. When I get there, I want no begging, whining or fighting this spanking or it will double. Am I making myself understood?
They nodded. Steeping over to Sean I spun him around with his back to me; then drawing my hand back I swatted him 3 times firmly across his blue jean bottom. The effect was to propel him towards the stairs.
"Off you go boys, and get moving."
Half an hour later, the boys were waiting in Sean's room. I asked his brother Eric to go to the store on his bike, in order to get him out of the house. Then I called Kelly's dad. I briefly outlined the circumstances, and made it clear I would abide by his decision regarding the spanking of his son, or sending him home. He was even more convinced than I was that a spanking was in order, and apologized on behalf of Kelly. I told him boys will be boys and hung up the phone.
The sight that greeted me when I entered the room was of two very cowed and frightened boys. They knew by my outwardly calm demeanour and dispassionate voice tone that I regarded what I was about to do as very much routine, yet my lack of anger seemed puzzling. I was conscious of that myself. But to be truthful, it was the seriousness of the act (i. e. playing with a gun) that made outward anger pointless. I would let my actions speak far louder than words ever could. That same lack of anger was clearly terrifying to both of my young charges this night.