Inspired by the thread in The Corner about holiday spankings, I want to tell you about the time, when I was seven, that I got spanked on Christmas Eve.
Where I live, the real celebrations of Christmas usually is on the 24th – we gather as family that evening, and eat and share presents then, instead of the morning of the 25th.
This particular Christmas was a little more special than normal because my paternal grandparents stayed with us, and it was just lovely.
At seven, I was – like most kids – pretty hyper around Christmas time. Mom and Dad were really patient with me, but I did some time-outs during the day, and was ordered to calm down.
My grandparents arrived around four. Grandma went to help Mom and Dad in the kitchen, while Grandad and I watched some Disney Christmas show on TV.
Dinner was finally ready and when we had eaten and cleared the table, as we were a Christian family, Dad read the Bible account of Christ being born. After that, we formed a circle around the Christmas tree and sang some carols.
Finally, it was time for the presents, for which I had waited all day! Things started well – I got some good presents. However, I was in for a disappointment – the present off my grandparents, which was about the size of one of the dolls I had put on my Christmas wish list, turned out to be a pair of shoes.
They were nice shoes but obviously not what I had been hoping for. I was so disappointed that I began to cry and that evolved into a full-blown tantrum.
Coming on top of my misbehaviour earlier in the day, this seemed to make up my dad’s mind. He took me by the hand, excused us, and led me to my bedroom.
You won’t be surprised to hear that once we got there, I was firmly scolded for being an ungrateful little girl and informed that I was going to get a smacked bottom.
Dad put me over his knee and raised my dress. Even though I was wearing tights over my panties, his hand still stung terribly through my clothing. As always when I was spanked, I cried a lot. Daddy gave me double my age in smacks, then held me close while I cried. Finally, I was forgiven and we rejoined everyone in the living room.
I was made to say sorry to my grandparents – and thank them for the lovely shoes, of course – then my grandmother sat me on her lap while the rest of the presents were opened.
As it turned out, I got the doll after all, from one of my aunts. So if I had just been a little more patient and thankful that night, I wouldn’t have gone to bed with a very sore bottom!