Chris thought I was being mouthy earlier. Personally, I think he received rather more of an education that I actually intended at ShadowLane, but that’s a rather different entry than the one I’m composing just now. In any event, he pulled out the new ‘nanny paddle’ he bought from The London Tanners, settled the princess on the bed watching Scooby-Doo, and suggested we retire to the family room (50 feet away with a closed door between us) for a few minutes to deal with the problem, so as to not have to worry about it later when we wanted to play.
Prompted by an overheard phone conversation at Shadow Lane's fall 2006 party.
Okay, so part of what's triggering this entry my classic anxiety about what Pablo could possibly get out of the disciplinary end of our relationship. I mean, it seems to me like work he's having to do keeping me from drifting off onto circular or self-destructive paths. When we've talked about it before he's generally made a bit of a joke in his dry English way, answering that what he gets out of it is "a quiet life."
It's a cute comment but didn't really tell me much. Not what this bit of eavesdropping and subsequent conversation (with me, not eavesdropping) did.
I’m not sure why it’s taken me more than a week to write this entry. There was nothing especially severe or terrible about this punishment. Partly I’m embarrassed, but then I’ve written about far more serious and shaming things here. I guess on some level I had convinced myself that if I just kept delaying I wouldn’t really need to write about it.
But eight days later, after some gentle reminders, well, here I go.
Last Saturday I got spanked quite hard for something embarrassingly cliche. As Haron wrote in her entry A Naughty Punished Wife sometime ago, there are certain things that it’s almost too stereotypical to be spanked for. Laxness in house cleaning is one Tasha’s written about. Not mailing an important check (or "cheque’ for our British readers) was Haron’s ‘wifely’ downfall. I supposed I should keep these in mind as I write my version of the typical domestic spanking story.
I left the front door unlocked twice last week.
Chris has a habit of asking, on his way out the door, if I’ll lock it behind him so he doesn’t have to pause and do it himself. Now, to be fair, he usually has his hands full or is in a ‘9-1-1’ rush, and he always asks and doesn’t tell, but I generally feel obliged to say yes.
Sometimes, however, ‘right now’ isn’t convenient. I’m in the bathroom with the baby, getting dressed, feel lazy, have something on a hot stove, am in the middle of Civ IV, trying to change a diaper, etc. So I’ll answer with perfectly good intentions, “I will in a few minutes.” And generally I do.