Hee hee :rotfl2:... my grandpa was the only one to ever make me and my brother do that.
I brought him a tiny little stick with a leaf on it.
My youngest son will be 1 in just a few weeks. He already gets a stearn voice and re-deirected when doing something he knows he should not be doing. Anyone who tries to tell me (a father of 4) that a 1 year doesnt know when they're doing something wrong...well, I can't tell you what I think of you and your opinion because I may get warned/banned.
After the stearn voice, if he reaches for it again whatever hand was involved in the reach gets popped.
Now...all of this talk about spanking and discipline makes me laugh out loud. Especially the part about the switches!! Not because I think it's insignificant...because it makes me recall one the scariest moments in my life.
I apologize in advance for the length of this story, but it's on-pointe and educational...
I was between 8-10 years old and had been bugging my sister and her friend pretty much will all of my ability...which was GREAT if I do say so myself.
My great-grandmother (around 75-78 at the time) told me to stop.
I didnt.
She told me to stop again...
Order was ignored again.
Thats when her lid officially became flipped. She told me to get the switch. So I obeyed and went to retrieve the switch.
It was at this point in time where my common sense failed to work. I KNEW in the back of my mind that my sweet Gan-Gan (who normally worshipped me) was not REALLY gonna hurt me. Still, I thought it would be a good idea to gently snap (not completely break) the switch every inch or so until it basically became a skinny wooden rope and lost its given efficacy of a switch. At the time, I recall thinking "this aint gonna end well for me", but I handed it to her.
She looked at me, spit her snuff out (in hindsight, this is when I should have ran away), and told me to get my dad's big belt.
I told her that I couldnt...I didnt know where they were...which was a lie, because I had just hidden them. BRILLIANT, right? Uh, no...not so much.
My Gan-Gan, who I KNEW would not really hurt me, then proceeded to take a few steps to the left into the restroom. She beant over, unscrewed the long wooden handle from the plunger and turned towards me, walking with what one can only describe as a
heightended sense of determination.
This was no longer my Gan-Gan. I didnt know who this woman was. I can still see her eyes. All I knew was I was about to die...or at least pray for death. It had been a good run.
Luckily when she was about three feet from me my paralyzing sense of horror subsided and my body allowed me to run. And I RAN. As fast as I could, out the back door of the house.
When I hit the ground a few feet from the last stair going outside I can still vividly recall the sight of my sister and her friend pointing and laughing at me. Of course I wanted to stop and take proper issue with this behavior but I didnt. Luckily my little guardian angel I had sitting on my shoulder was now clinching to my shirt collar and ear lobe screaming at the top of his lungs with fear in his voice..."TURN AROUND
[email protected]$...TURN AROUND!!!!"
The woman who I formerly knew as Gan-Gan, still apparently hell bent on removing me from this world, had not yet given up on her pursuit. She was half-way down the stairs and picking up speed.
My sister would later describe the look on my face as I came down the stairs as "scared sh...ess"...and hysterical.
After I cleared about 50 yards from the back yard and had safely scaled my neighbors fence, I checked my shorts (they were clean) and heard the calm, cool collected, determined woman, formerly known as Gan-Gan, standing at the property line pointing the instrument of death at me repeating to herself "he has to come home...I'll get him then."
I went home later that night after taking sanctuary at an undisclosed location for about 6 hours. She had calmed down and just stared at me when I walked in. The plunger handle was no where in sight or at least she was not Open Carrying it. I apologized to which she scoffed and vowed to finish the job next time that my "
[email protected]$$ pulls something like that."
I never messed with the old lady after that. Never. Ever. Not once.
You want to make my 42 year old sister laugh hysterically. Call her up, almost 30 years after said event, and say two words. "PLUNGER HANDLE". Gets her everytime. Tears will be in her eyes.
Point of story...beatings and near death experiences work.
That, and don't mess with anyone one named Gan-Gan...theyre not who you think they are.