The spatula

This is a true story, and a memory and lesson that lasted. I was about eight years old and I stole some cookies that morning out a of jar that sat on the kitchen counter.

Early that same afternoon, I was taking a bath. I remember the water was warm and I didn’t have a care in the world. Suddenly, my mother burst through the closed bathroom door, saying: “I told you what would happen if I caught you stealing again!”

She reached under my left arm and in a single motion she pulled me up to my feet and held me firmly so I would not slip. I never saw the kitchen spatula she had in her right hand but I sure felt it. My warm, wet bottom suddenly felt the sting of that spatula as she spanked me while I stood surprised and helpless.

I remember she gave me about a dozen hard, quickly well-placed smacks. Everywhere I tried to put my free right hand she spanked somewhere else. Then she stopped and I stood there crying. Then she told me to get out of the tub.

I thought the spanking was over but as I got out, she pulled me toward her and brought that spatula down another dozen times so rapidly that the sting was just catching up to my bottom as she turned and walked out the door.

I stood dancing on the bathroom floor for a moment before I sat down and cried and whimpered away the pain. I did not steal any more cookies after that spanking!

Contributor: Barry

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