Sure.A couple of days ago I was sitting down in front of my sewing machine sewing in the middle of the afternoon, something I love to do. As always, I had a cigarette going in the ashtray, and was relaxed and very much preoccupied with my thoughts. But it wasn't without it's fair share of interuptions from my dear 7 year old son. No problem.
But ever since early that morning, dear son woke with a chip on his shoulder prompting him to act up, throw two temper-tantrums by 9:30 a.m., and toss one of his toys down the flight of stairs towards the basement. Having had enough, I snapped at him, "pick up that toy and get over here"!
Picking up my cigarette from the ashtray, I dashed the burning end in the ashtray a couple of times, rolled the burning end of the cigarette from side to side a few times to sharpen the cigarette end, then took a long drag while glaring at dear old son.
"You have been nothing but miserable ever since you woke up this morning" I chortled, "and now your getting a spanking"! "You have been spoken to for the last time today" I said, calmly putting the cigarette in my mouth, then grabbing dear son by one arm, and swiftly marching him up the stairs, and down the hallway to his room. "Was he doing the old, "please mommy I don't want a spanking performance"? Yup! As usual,... but that doesn't work with me anymore. After your first child you learn quickly!
Sitting down on the corner of his bunk bed with dear old son standing between my legs rolling out some (pre-spanking) crocodile tears like kids always do, it was down with his pants, followed by a spanking on his bare bottom with my hand. Pants up when finished, followed by a good shaking of my long index finger in his direction with a lecture to match, just to affirm my displeasure of his behaviour, a couple more stern swats through his pants to solidify my no-nonsense intent, then back down to the sewing room to continue my work.
How was I holding my cigarette when I exited his bedroom? By my side, swinging it back and forth as I walked. As far as changing goes, none of our kids wear "dipies" anymore.
Ask nicely, and you shall receive.
