One of the most frustrating things a Mommy has to deal with is repeating herself. And it isn’t always that she wasn’t heard the first time. It’s often that a little mind fails to pay attention when it needs to.
But when a Mommy grows weary of not just repeating herself, but also repeating the same ineffective punishments, she begins to do less in order to accomplish more.
And the new lessons are learned in a different way when O.T.K.
Gus sat Indian-leg style between the sofa and the glass top coffee table, playing with his toys and enjoying himself.
Fauna walked up to him, with hands on hips and in what seemed to be a serious mood.
“Hi, Mommy,” he said cheerfully and innocently before going back to his toys.
She didn’t greet him back. She didn’t move and she didn’t say a word. He knew she wasn’t happy about something, but honestly had no idea what it could be. Nervously trying to avoid the confrontation if in fact it was he who did something wrong, he looked up at her.
“Hi,” he said again, as cheerfully and innocently as the first time.
“Hi,” she said at last.
“Hi,” he returned with, quickly as she walked behind him and sat on the sofa.
“Didn’t we discuss something before I left?” she asked, resting her elbows on her knees.
“What did we discuss?” he asked, unsure of what she was talking about.
“This mess,” she said, pointing to the coffee table and the surrounding areas of rug. “You were supposed to have your toys picked up. The room was supposed to be clean.”
“Ohhhhhh yeah,” he said, quickly searching for an excuse. “About that …”
“What about that?” she asked, waiting to hear his excuse.
“I forgot,” he said, thinking that calling it forgetfulness might mask the fact that he actually wasn’t listening to her when she instructed him to clean up the room. “I was having fun playing with my speed boys. I’m sorry.”
“And this has been how many times?” she asked, having heard the I forgot speech from him before.
He tried to recall the number of times he had forgotten but eventually looked at his right hand and made a confession.
“I don’t have that many fingers,” he admitted.
Lil Gus knew he was busted.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, lowering his head.
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled back. “You’re gonna be real sorry. Come on. Up!”
He got to his feet, knowing full-well what was in store for him.
Down over her knee he went and her left hand struck his backside with a rapid and ferocious force. He apologized again, but she was the kind of person who hated repeating herself just as much as she hated to have to punish the exact same way again and again.
Clearly, Lil Gus wasn’t getting the point. So it was time to do things differently.
She made him stand back up and lower his shorts. Then she directed him back down over her knee. The pull-up she had dressed him in wasn’t going to absorb much of the shock he was about receive.
Repositioning herself, she raised her right hand and began wailing away on both of his cheeks with a cracking strike which brought pain to his bottom that made him twitch.
Nearly twenty blows and a good scolding later, she made him stand up and lower the pull-up he was wearing. It was humiliating for him to be helping her set up his own punishment.
Maybe now, he would finally learn to listen to her.
Back down over her knee he went and she gave him twenty more smacks, but now she delivered them separately instead of rapid succession. She wanted each one to count, to leave a mark and to make the point crystal clear to him.
He was pink by the time she told him to stand up and put his pull-up and shorts back on. She could’ve made him red, but perhaps that would be the shade of the next time he found himself O.T.K.
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