Perfectly Made

Yesterday was a day full of spankings. Oddly, they were awarded mostly to Allison.

She stomped her foot and gave me an ugly look when I told her to do something. Pop on the booty!

She's going through a phase where she's pinching the boys for each slight infraction. A couple of swats for that.

Before I go further, let me say that I am not a spanking-happy parent. On my side of the family, Bruce and I are considered the strict parents. But on Bruce's side of the family, we are considered the lenient parents. I'm pretty content with that. It's a good medium. A good blend between the Moody and the Mitchell sides.

Now back to the story...

Then the biggie hit. The Mount Saint Helen's of all explosions.

At lunch time the rule in our house is to finish your sandwich first, then fruit or veggies, and then you can eat the junkfood, like chips or cookies. I had to leave the kitchen for a minute and I came back to find that Allison's chips were nearly gone and her sandwich lay there, half eaten. Her banana was untouched. This is not a new occurrence with this munchkin.

I reminded her of our rule and told her to get back to her sandwich. She started crying. And then she acted like she was gagging. Again, this isn't the first time she's pulled this particular theatrical feat.

She insisted her sandwich tasted "funny". This is the same kind of sandwich she requests each and every day for lunch. But on the off chance that there was something wrong, I asked Spencer how his had tasted. His was fine, he said; so using my great powers of deduction, I figured her's must also be fine.

She was still gagging and holding in her mouth a now visibly mushy bite of sandwich. I told her to take a drink of milk to wash it down.

She acted like she was choking, sloshed milk out of her cup, and cried out that she couldn't swallow. If you've ever taken any health class and learned the Heimlich, you know that if a person can talk, they ain't choking!

Her fit was gaining momentum, and my blood pressure was rising as well.

I told her to "suck it up". I said she was in control of everything about her body at that moment. If the bite she took was too big, then don't take such a big bite next time. If she couldn't swallow because she was still crying, then stop crying. I said I was leaving the kitchen for one minute and she had better have that bite swallowed when I got back.

Meanwhile, if you could have just seen poor Spencer beside her. She was gagging, and he was checking the distance between her seat and his. Then he scooted over to my chair to put some distance between him and the possible geyser.

After one minute's time, she had not swallowed her bite. But she had worked herself into an even finer lather. You know what's coming next, right?

I sat down and told her to bend over across my legs so I could spank her. She protested.

She said...

"But Mommy, it's not right for you spank me. Spencer's bottom is made more for spanking than mine is. His bottom is softer."

I was beyond humor at that point and simply said, "God made each one of us with a bottom just perfect for spanking. That's what it's there for."

"His bottom is softer." Where does she get this stuff? What precious little minds they have to come up with such logic.


"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139:14