One of my earliest memories of being spanked by my mother was as a three-year-old (in the 1930s). I was an adventurer, and one day I decided that it would be grand to ‘run away’. I didn’t know much about it, but had heard from other children that it was something kids were supposed to do.
I packed up a few things, made two sandwiches (peanut butter, I think), and talked my younger brother Jeff into going with me. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, as he took my hand in complete trust. We sneaked out of the side door and down to the gate, crept around the block and down to the pond to ‘make camp’.
I did not know that by now the family and neighbours were very concerned. We lived in a big mansion in a well-to-do suburban community near Boston and the fear was kidnapping, due to the Lindbergh baby episode. A large group had been mobilised as well as the police to see if we could be located. They began to call our names, which we heard from the shore of the pond.
Of course, I did not want to be found, so I pulled my brother into the bushes near the pond to avoid the people who were approaching. Jeff had no idea what I was doing. He began digging in the dirt and mud there. He was a real mess of mud by that time.
Unfortunately, I had left our things by the edge of the water and folks got very excited when they were found. My parents ran down to identify the objects, and they were nearly hysterical, fearing that we had drowned. I had never seen my mother cry. It scared me, so I came out of the bushes.
I thought the world had ended. I had no idea why everyone was so upset. Someone reached in and pulled my brother out, who promptly put a muddy thumb into his mouth and curled up on dad’s shoulder. No-one blamed him, of course. Dad told mom that he would take Jeff home and get him cleaned up. A neighbour took my things to bring home, and my mother brought me.
I could tell that her tears were changing to anger by the way she was holding my hand. I tried to pull away, because it was too tight, but she gripped more tightly. At the gate, she set me down on the lawn and told me not to move. She took the things from the neighbours, and thanked them all for so much assistance.
The last police officer was making out his report. He looked down at me as he was saying goodbye to mom and told me that I was going to be a very sorry little girl, he was sure. I didn’t know what he meant.
With everyone gone, my mother picked me up and led me to a bench near the porch. It was concealed from the road by large flowering bushes. She pulled my dress over my head, which was all dirty. That left me with one shoe (the other must have gone into the pond somewhere) and my undershirt and panties.
With a swift and decisive move, she pulled me over her lap and pulled down my panties. She pushed my head way down, so I felt a bit unsteady (as though I might fall on my head), and then she began to spank my bottom again and again. I was so surprised that I didn’t cry right away. I think that spanking went on forever.
She pulled up my panties as quickly as she had pulled them down and led me into the house. I was holding my bottom and crying very hard. She gave me to my nanny, who was directed to take me upstairs, bathe me and put me to bed.
Nanny had been just as afraid about our fate. After bathing me, as she sat by the tub with the towel in her lap as usual, she pulled me from the water, across her knees and began to spank me on my wet, sore bottom. I was in tears all over again. She lectured me about scaring my mother and about putting my brother in danger.
Nanny put me to bed as directed by my mother. As I lay there sobbing, my father came in. He pulled back the covers and stood me up, shaking me slightly. How could I have done this to mommy? He sat down on the edge of the bed, placed me over his knees, pulled down my pyjamas and spanked me yet again. Once more I was in pain. I found myself back in bed very shortly, and daddy left.
I was just falling asleep when grandmother came in. She took me out of bed and led me to the window. She showed me the city lights at a distance and told me of all the bad people out there who would hurt little girls and boys. She reminded me that I had been very, very naughty. Then she pulled down my pyjama bottoms, put me over one knee by the window and spanked me in the moonlight. She told me that she always spanked my mother when she was a little girl, and when I got older, it would be a switch. I didn’t know what that was.
I think I must have experienced spanking after spanking by all those people for hours (or so it seemed). In the following days, neighbours told me that they wish they could spank me for scaring them as I had. I found myself turning my behind away from nearly everyone as they approached me.
I remember that day vividly from my own recollections, but also because it was recounted to me so frequently by family members as I was growing up. Jeff recalls none of it, of course. Mommy spanked his bare bottom plenty of times later, but those are his stories.