I know that I didn't want things to turn out the way they did. And I know for a certain fact that my son didn't want things to end up happening the way they did either. However, sometimes circumstances warrant a certain outcome, and you just have to make the best hand out of what you are dealt.
It all started last week when my son, Christopher age 5, emphatically declared to my wife and I that he was going to do what he wanted, when he wanted. He set out to completely ignore any requests we asked him to do. It was bad enough he was obnoxious and just plain rude to a fault, but it all came to a head last Wednesday when the real battle began.
Little Christopher awoke that morning in a bad mood, and he made sure that all of us suffered for it. He sleepily brushed his teeth and combed his hair, then fussed all during the time I attempted to dress him. The whole thing was an ordeal that I longed would be over.
"But Daddy, pleeeeeeaaasssee! Do I hafta?" he repeated, whining profusely.
No amount of explanation would suffice.
Breakfast provided an opportune time for him to spill virtually all of his cereal on the floor, but fortunately for him, sparing his clothes. I was left to clean up the mess, as my wife had already gone to work. I am a stay-at-home dad. All the while I grew more and more angry and my frustration level began to reach a new peak.
After breakfast, he sat on the living room floor and played with his toys. At least, that is what I wanted him to do: play nicely on the floor. Instead, he took sheer malicious delight in spreading them all over the living room. A brief respite was found when I went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. I came back soon after to discover the little miscreant drawing colorful pictures on the wallpaper. I was fit to be tied as I scrubbed the wall, removing most of the crayon marks.
"Little boy, if you get into any more trouble, I will take you over my knee and paddle your bare bottom!" This was no mere idle threat, as Christopher had felt my wrath at least three times before.
"B-b-b-but D-d-d-d-daddy!" he whined, pursing his little lip in a vain attempt to curb my temper and appeal to my mercy.
I went back to wash the dishes as he again playing with his toys, this time without incident. Not long after this time, I was alarmed to hear a sickening crash of glass breaking in the living room. I found Chris standing next to the remains of an expensive vase I bought my wife as an anniversary present."That is IT!" I yelled, furious.
"You are going to get the paddling I promised you right NOW!"
"Come over here now!" I yelled, pulling him up by his ear to reinforce the effect. Shocked by my reaction, Christopher could only manage to whimper. Pitiable though he was, I could not pity him. There was only one course of action left. I quickly put a chair in the middle of the living room. There was a large wooden hairbrush on the coffee table which I took in hand. This was to be the paddle I spoke of to him previously.
I sat down in the chair and stood the little brat in front of me. I eyed him up and down, wondering how I would ever break this spoiled child of his recalcitrance and defiance. I pondered how soft my wife was on the boy, and even though I often criticized her for giving him too much leeway, she persisted in excusing all but the most serious of misbehaviors. That would now change, I hoped.
Christopher is a very handsome little boy, with a blonde mop of short-cropped hair, sparkling blue eyes, and an impish, gap-toothed smile that is infectious as well as heart-warming. His face sports an ample sprinkling of freckles across his dimpled cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He is a little short for his age, about 3'7", He is also on the heavy side, about 53 pounds, the result of too much sweets and snacks. That is also something that my wife really needs to stop doing, feeding him all that junk food. He has pale, unblemished skin that is very smooth to the touch, and very susceptible to sunburn, which he often gets in the summer.
I quickly unbuttoned his brown courderoy pants, then unzipped the fly. Chris shuddered with the anticipation of what was soon to come. I pulled his pants down below his knees, then pulled his tight underpants down below his knees as well. I paused for a moment, assessing the situation.
Without further word or explanation, I took him squarely across my knee, bringing my right leg over his legs, locking him into position. His bared buttocks were in perfect alignment for the spanking now. I raised the paddle-hairbrush high, flat side down, and brought it down hard with a resounding smack. His round little bottom bounced up and down from the impact. I continued in this manner, spanking with a fury and an unrivaled passion. Not long after I started, Christopher began bawling loudly, though at first, it was a cry of desparation and impudence. After several more stinging smacks with the hairbrush, his cry became babyish, sobbing uncontrollably. The desired effect had been achieved, leaving two large red circles on his bottom.
I stood him up and hugged and consoled him for what seemed like hours. After a stern lecture he promised to be a good boy and not misbehave again. We both knew what would happen should he fail to comply with my directives. For now, though, he had been corrected. As I pulled his pants back up, I wondered when there would be another occasion like this one. As it turned out, I wouldn't have to wait much longer...
More to follow...