A good smack

A few years back, I was waiting in a bank waiting for an interview with the manager. Also waiting was a young mother with two small twin sons.

She was dark and plump, about 27, and she wore a wedding ring: her boys were blond imps of about six or seven. They were not at all badly behaved (for these days), spending their time climbing over the mother’s lap amd down again to the floor, giggling. She kept them in bounds, fondly caressing, stroking and shepherding them so that they caused no nuisance.

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