on "To Whoop or Not To Whoop"

I was the "middle child" of three girls. I don't know why I was blamed for everything. I just was. If Susan was crying, it was my fault. If Tracey was yelling, it was my fault. For this reason, I got lots of "whoopings." Some I know I deserved, others I questioned.

Several bad whoopings come to mind. I know the parents say, "This is going to hurt me more than you." That is a lie. I know. How could those licks on my behind hurt less than my dad's "feelings" while he was administering such punishment? I just don't believe it.

Ok. One time, my friend and I decided to test our skills at rolling the yard of my neighbor down the street with toilet paper and applying a generous amount of shaving cream to their vehicle. Oh, we also aimed high and got a few trees with the toilet paper as well. We walked back to my house (by the way, this was a Sunday afternoon, yep, after church). My friend went home. Later, the phone rang. I answered. It was my neighbor. Whoops! Well, I lied. I said I didn't do it. Then my mom did an investigation. She went into the bathroom. Yep, my ship was sunk. She came out, "Your dad's shaving cream is gone and so is some toilet paper."

I don't know why they do it, but they enjoy making us wait for our whooping and that is completely uncalled for. Just do it and get it over with! Anyway, I knew it was coming, I just didn't know when. That evening, my dad asked, "You don't think I've forgotten about that whooping, do you?" Well, I knew he hadn't but I had hoped that he had come down with a temporary case of amnesia. So, there we are in my room. We've assumed the position and boy, he let me have it. Belts hurt. As I'm laying there, screaming in pain, Susan has her head under the covers. You would think she felt sorry for me, you think she would have said, "daddy, stop, that's enough"...oh, no, she was too busy laughing, laughing at my pain. Needless to say, I didn't roll anyone else's yard-EVER AGAIN!

Another whooping comes to mind. I was taking the trash out because we actually did chores back then. I lit the trash, then I decided to play with the matches. So I built another fire away from the burn pile. Most country folks know what a burn pile is. Mom called me inside. I left the fire. A little while later the woods behind our house was going up in flames! Whoops! Here comes another whooping! We got the fire put out. Later, I received my just recompence. Wow, it hurt. A few months later, dad was burning some stuff and he caught the woods on fire. I'm just curious, who was going to whoop him? Fair is fair, right?

I said all that to say this. My daughter is going through that "pre-teen stage." Her mouth is pushing the "whooping button" in a serious way. Joe has the "rod of correction" leaning against the wall in the laundry room. I'm serious, he does. It has yet to be used. I am patiently awaiting this event. I know I could call my dad, he'd know how to use it. It doesn't have an automatic pilot on it. It is a manual. It needs no gas, no electricity, not even a AA battery. I am wondering if it came with instructions and Joe just hasn't read them yet. But, if and when the time comes, you can be certain you will see a blog on it!

Thanks for your comments.