ODE TO SPANKINGS

I have raised six children. Four of my children I have never touched. My two oldest boys didn't escape unscathed. There were about five and three when we went to a liquor store. I was looking for something to drink while they wandered about the store. Then I heard a loud crash.

The two had been horsing around in front of a large wine display and the pyramid of bottles came tumbling down. It was a scene. I whacked the shit out of their little asses, not so much as to discipline them but to convince the individual in charge that I was completely innocent of the mishap and not hold me financially responsible. The strategy worked to perfection; I gave my sons a tongue lashing that was second to none once we were in the car.

Joaquin, the younger of the two, had an instinctual problem. We would be in a parking
lot. As soon as I opened the door, he would dash out of the vehicle and start running. He paid no attention to the traffic. I would track him down, grab him firmly by the arm and whack the shit out of him.

"Stop your running!" I would scream at him. "You could get yourself killed!"

Growing up, my father took the belt to me on a few occasions, but I was deserving of the punishment and I accepted my fate. These whippings left no scars and served to curb certain behaviors. In those days, fathers hit their kids because I'm sure their fathers had been equally strict with them.

Back to Joaquin. This madness continued and I would have to resort to tanning his butt red. Like I said: His running was an instinctual reaction that could only be cured in the same fashion that one disciplines a recalcitrant animal. Joaquin was too young to comprehend reason.

I cannot remember the exact circumstances, but we had stopped and he was going to cross a median that divided traffic out of the mall parking lot. I believe his mother was waiting for him in front of a restaurant. He saw her and opened the door. He acted so quickly that I didn't have a chance to detain him. He started in his usual sprint.

I looked back and there was a car approaching that would intersect with him. Panic froze me. There was nothing I could do but watch helplessly. To my shocking relief, he stopped on the median and the vehicle sped by. I dropped my head on the steering wheel and sighed with satisfaction. The spankings had served their purpose. My baby boy was alive and well.