I look back on it now and I cannot believe some of the lies I told – and told with the full if naive belief that I was going to get away with it! That I ever sat down was a miracle, almost as big as that mom never left me at someone else’s doorstep and ran. One of the top crimes for which I could count on having my pants taken down and my bare little bottom warmed by hand and stick was for lying. Responsibility for actions and the idea of having a duty them as parents and me as a growing-up boy. They spanked to punish, and therefore it was painful, but also to teach lessons: that they loved and cared enough about me to take time to spank that the world had rules, limits and penalties for breaking those rules. I gave my parents many a reason to whip me good, yet neither ever bruised me or caused me to be hurting for days, even at times when I was spanked a couple of times in one day, as in this next memory I shall recount nor when I was spanked on consecutive days, as happened on many occasions. I read some of the stories of kids being spanked till they couldn’t sit for days after and I can’t quite see how the adult doing the spanking could be that rough. Mom’s spanking were always painful yet never abusive. That my mom was very good at administering a spanking had lots to do with the fact I presented her with many chances to practice the art of correcting a naughty boy’s behaviour.
