In the winter of 1975, I was a little girl of seven years old and my grandfather on my mom’s side had just passed away.
Mother inherited an antique mirror that she had adored since she was a little girl. This mirror was a very old one. She placed it in the hallway and warned me not to play rough around it.
A few weeks after mom receiving the mirror, I was play wrestling with my brother who was two years older. My brother pushed me up against the wall that the mirror was on and I knocked it. The mirror crashed to the floor, shattering in a thousand pieces.
My brother took off running, leaving me alone in the hallway when my mother came in. “Cassandra Dawn!” she yelled. “What did I tell you about not playing rough in the hallway? You’re getting a spanking now, young lady – probably the worst spanking you ever got. Go to your room, and wait for me. Now!”
I went into my bedroom and waited for my fate. “Will she take down my pants and panties?” I wondered. I didn’t have to wonder long because just a few minutes later mom entered the room, with her ping pong paddle in her hand.
“Pull down your pants now!” she screamed. “Panties too!”
I did what I was told, fearing the worst. After I took down my pants and panties, mom turned me across her knee and paddled my bare bottom with the paddle for what seemed like forever – although it was really only about 10 swats.
My bottom was on fire. After the spanking, I looked at my behind in my own mirror and saw the very mean-looking red marks. I went to my bed, lay down (on my tummy of course) and cried myself to sleep. My bottom was sore for about three days.