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.
We’ve done this before without a problem, mostly for short verbal exchanges outside of perceptive ears. And we really do want to teach her that it’s okay to lie in bed by oneself. She was perfectly content.
I was dressed in a short black tennis skirt that just barely covers my bottom anyway and a white t-shirt. Chris had no trouble flipping it up and smacking me with his hand – something I usually enjoy. But I yelped, squealed and tried to turn on his lap, particularly every time his hand connected with the right side of my bottom.
And then he used the paddle in a gentle (yes, it really was gentle) introduction to this new toy, which is only slightly larger than the infamous walnut hairbrush that resides in the nightstand drawer.
Yes, it hurt, even though it wasn’t terribly severe. For reasons attributable to another London Tanners implement (the pocket lochgelly tawse) my right bottomcheek is extremely sore. I wasn’t quiet – I didn’t think I needed to be – but neither did I scream. It was enough to make me bright red, and when we opened the family room door and strolled through the house to the bedroom, I was rubbing and jokingly whining “Ouch…”
And then we – still laughing and somewhat recovering – saw the princess on the bed. She was sitting up and she said, “Mama, you okay?”
“Oh, yes, sweetheart,” I assured her, still quite unaware of the direction of the conversation.
Her brow furrowed a little. “Mama sad,” she said. “Daddy hit Mama.”
I felt my heart sinking. When I hadn’t felt like crying from a spanking at all, this simple statement worried me. “No, no, sweetheart,” I said again, “Mama happy. Daddy no hits Mama.”
She didn’t look convinced but thinking to let it go, I asked her if she wanted to go the family room with Daddy. “Daddy hit ‘Princess’ too,” she said quite seriously. “‘Princess’ sad.”
And then I really did want to cry.
Chris reassured her that he would never hit Mama or the princess, but she didn’t want to listen. She was already back to her Scooby-Doo episode.
It bothers me anyway.