I grew up in a home that wasn’t short of discipline. Almost weekly, I ended up over my mother’s knee for bare bottom blisterings. My mother believed that a child that wasn’t punished soundly was being deprived of a proper upbringing. At the age of 12, I found out that punishments were meant to be remembered.
I had gotten lippy with my mom and had started to talk back often, each time to wind up over my mother’s knee. The last time, I was warned that any more occurrences would result in ‘a walk to the barn’. I really didn’t know what she meant but kept it in mind for two weeks – then came that fateful day.