Except for the time Rachel and Ben and Adam dripped lines of gasoline in the garage. Then lit matches to see whose line would burn the fastest.
Or the time Ben and Adam burned their spelling books (again) in the garage.
Or the time I was lighting matches in my Grandma Barnard's camping trailer.
Apparrently we are a family of pyromaniacs. And enjoyed incinerating almost anything in our oversized garage.
In THESE instances, discipline was swift. One good SWAT on the rear.
I'll admit, my swat was just a WARNING swat. A cautionary action letting me know what I was doing was infact wrong, and should I continue in my unacceptable behavior, the next spank would be REAL.
And I'll admit, The embarrassment I felt from my dad seeing my bare hind end was more than enough to curb my behavior.
I remember, on occassion, watching a movie where a little boy would commit some kind of crime, punishable by paddling. Dad would march his son up the stairs to his room and inevitabley say to him:
"This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you."
As a child, this statement dumbfounded me. It couldn't POSSIBLY be true. At least not true in the sense that my little child mind could comprehend.
But I'm no longer a child. And I HAVE a child of my VERY OWN. Now, I couldn't understand more.
We have begun the official and very much dreaded, BINKIE DETOX program at our house. My son's one and only truly loved posession. We just took them all away. All of them. Cold Turkey. AND....I have spent the last hour listening to my poor little guy cry and cry and cry. Because how is he suppossed to sleep without his binks?
The weeping and whaling and nashing of new little teeth has calmed down to a heart breaking, literally brings tears to my eyes, sad little wimper.
SOMEBODY.....MAKE IT STOP!!!
I know, Miles misses that binks of his. I know he doesn't understand why its gone. I know he really is upset that he has to fall asleep without it.
But OHHHHHHHH...how it's killing me!
And I thought of that statement dads make to their derelict sons right before their paddles hit their bottoms.
And now, I know it's true.
P.S. Wish Me Luck!