I grew up in the early 50s when spankings were to be expected in the process of raising children. I lived with my mother and father and two older brothers, Andrew and Joshua, and younger sister Jennifer.
At the time of this story I was about eight years old, Andrew was about nine, Josh 11 and Jenny about five.
It was a nice spring day and it was a Saturday. Daddy was at work and our mother was trying to clean the house. She had given us all chores but none of us really seemed to be co-operating.
Rather than getting angry when my little sister spilled soapy water on the carpet, she just shook her head and said she must be silly to think she could keep four kids inside doing chores on such a nice day. She finally sent us outside to play in the back yard and gave us all strict instructions to stay there.
We were playing fine till I saw over the fence that across the street, many neighbourhood children were playing softball in the front yard of Mrs Andrews’ house. I loved that game and so I asked my siblings if they wanted to go over there.
Well, knowing that they would be in trouble as well as myself if we were to disobey mom’s orders, they all decided against it. I on the other hand, figuring mom would never notice, climbed the fence and went to play.
Things were going grand until I threw the ball to someone standing near the huge living room window and the person missed as the ball flew into the window, breaking it. I was in tears in a second and the minute Mrs Andrews came outside, it was very obvious whom the culprit was.
“Alicia, did your mother change her mind and allow you to come over?” asked Mrs Andrews, concerned. “No ma’am,” I cried, sitting down on the dirty ground knowing I was in a lot of trouble.
“You were supposed to be in your back yard, weren’t you little lady?” asked Mrs Andrews sternly “Yes ma’am,” I replied. “And you came over here uninvited and have now broken my window,” she continued. “I’m sorry. I really am,” I cried.
“I have a feeling you will be very sorry when your mother hears about this. If you were my daughter, you would get the spanking of your life right about now,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me up.
“Please don’t tell mommy – please! I’m so sorry!” I begged, knowing the spanking she spoke of would soon be a reality. “Now now, child, let’s go,” she said pulling me along across the street. I followed reluctantly, taking one look at the window and then a look at my siblings through the fence. Why hadn’t I just been a good girl and done what mommy told me to?
Mrs Andrews knocked on the door and mommy answered it, looking frazzled. An angry neighbour and a crying little girl greeted her; she looked very confused at the sight of us. “What’s going on?” she asked, eyeing us. Mrs Andrews relayed the whole story to her and I just stood there crying, hoping mommy would feel somewhat sorry for me.
When Mrs Andrews had delivered her story, mommy looked at me. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Alicia?” she asked sternly. “I’m sorry,” was all I could muster. “Oh, you will be when I’m through with you! Now march to your room and stand in the corner – you are in a lot of trouble, young lady,” she said, pulling me into the house.
As I walked by her and up the stairs, she planted one hard swat on my rear. She then invited Mrs Andrews in and they talked for what seemed like forever as I stood in the corner, clutching my bottom.
Finally, mommy came into the bedroom which I shared with my sister. The first thing I noticed as she walked in was that she had that dreaded hairbrush in her hand and she looked somewhat calmer. The sight of the hairbrush made me cry harder. My mother pulled a chair into the middle the room, sat down and stood me in front of her.
“Alicia, I’m very disappointed in you right now. I let you and your brothers and sister out of doing chores to go and play – wasn’t that enough?
“What did I tell you when I let you go out to play?” she asked me, looking right into my eyes. “Stay in the back yard,” I replied looking down. “And did you obey me?” she asked. “No, mommy,” I said, clutching my bottom, again knowing what was soon coming.
“And to get to Mrs Andrews’ house, you have to cross the street, don’t you?” asked my mother. How could she have remembered that? I hadn’t even thought of that! “Yes,” I said. “And isn’t there a rule against doing so?” she asked. “I’m sorry, mommy,” I cried.
“You disobeyed me twice, you rudely invited yourself into a game without asking and then you broke a window,” my mother summed up my crimes. “I didn’t mean to break the window,” I said meekly. “Of course you didn’t. That was an accident and you are not being punished for that – you are being punished for disobeying me.”
“Please don’t spank me, mommy,” I begged. But she reached under my skirt and pulled down my panties, ignoring my pleas. “Mommy, no!” I cried, grabbing at my underwear. She slapped my hand, then she placed me over her knee and lifted my skirt so it was over my head. She then grabbed her brush and the first smack resounded on my defenceless bottom.
“You were a (spank) naughty girl today (spank) and you will remember this spanking!”
She then became quiet and began spanking my bottom in rhythm quickly and stingingly. She must have spanked me about 30 times that day and it was without a doubt the worst spanking I had ever had up until that time in my life. I cried the whole time.
When the spanking was over, mommy lifted me off her lap and stood me in front of her, still holding the hairbrush. “Will you ever do anything like that again, Alicia?” “No mommy!” “Good,” she said, slapping that brush against my skirt-covered backside. That spank probably hurt more than any of the other 30.
Finally, she set down the brush and pulled my panties back up. “Now, you sit in here until you can calm down – and then you have chores to do. You have a lot to make up for after breaking that window and you will not play outside for a week – understand?” she said, setting me on my bed. “Yes,” I cried.
She kissed me on the forehead and walked out of the room. I stood on my bed and let my panties drop as I looked in the mirror at my bottom – it was crimson red and I knew I would never disobey mommy again.
That wasn’t the first or the last spanking I ever received, but I never forgot it.