I’ve been reminiscing quite a lot lately about the good old-fashioned smacked bottoms I received as a youngster.

Some of my very favourite experiences were hearing mothers talk about spanking.

I remember vividly an incident in a grocery store in which the writer’s baby sister blurted out in front of the grocery clerk how his mother had smacked him very hard on his bottom.

What is it about the grocery store setting that provokes so many smacked bottoms and threats of smacked bottoms? I myself have been threatened more than once in front of the checkout register. And there was one incident in which I was assured, in very explicit terms, of what I had coming to me when I got home.

But I digress. What I really wanted to write about was the times when I was a boy, hearing a group of mothers talk about discipline. These kinds of discussions came up often from time to time in my house because my foster mother talked very freely about it herself. I think that my foster mother was the model for the term ‘no-nonsense lady’.

Just to give you an idea of what she was like, I will tell you that there were times, even in my teens and despite my protestations, when I would have to go over her knee for a very serious, very painful and tearful session with the wooden spoon, hairbrush or slipper.

Not only did she have absolutely no compunction against taking me over her knee for a very sound spanking, she also had no qualms against warning me in public of an impending spanking or of describing, in a very matter-of-fact manner, to other mothers in my presence the methods she used to discipline me.

She would talk about it as seriously and as nonchalantly as if she were talking about how to prepare a casserole or treat a case of diaper rash.

In turn, many mothers often would open up with accounts of their own methods of disciplining their children and/or their own childhood experiences.

I remember a conversation between my foster mother and my cousin Tommy’s wife, Jean.
I remember this conversation so well because even at that young age, it was very obvious to me that Jean loved to talk about these things. She had two boys of her own – and she was not at all unattractive.

My foster Mother and Jean were sitting in the living room, chatting. When the conversation turned to physical discipline, my foster mother described to her how she would make me go up to my room, get into my pyjamas for bed, and return to the living room for my punishment .

Jean’s face lit up and she said: “That’s a great idea!”. Then she turned to me with a sparkle in her eye and a very sympathetic look and said, “I bet you don’t like coming downstairs knowing that your mother is waiting to give you a good smacked bottom, do you?” I confirmed that I didn’t like it, although I loved hearing Jean talk about it.

“Oh my goodness! Having to come all the way down those steps , thinking about that very hard smacked bottom you are to get? I bet you are already a very sorry little boy by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs. I’m going to have to try that with my own the next time he needs discipline.”

Mother added: “Then he gets a good scolding. That gives him some more time to think about it.” Jean looked at me, shook her head, stuck out her lower lip, and with a deeply furrowed brow said: “Ooooooooooooooo.”

Then my foster mother – now talking very sternly and looking at me as if I had really done something naughty – said: “Then he goes over my knee, bottom up for a good hard smack.”

Jean, still looking at me, pursed her lips and whistled while inhaling. She was obviously enjoying the description.

Then, talking about her own boy, Jean said: “After Patrick gets a spanking like that, he dances a real fast jig.” My mother responded: “Peter does, as we;;.” They just smiled at each other delightfully.

This reminds me of my mother and her telephone conversations with friends. They would go something like this…

“I had to give Daniel a good smacked bottom this morning… No, this time I decided to use the hairbrush. I think the ruler is OK when they’re younger, but he’s old enough to be treated like his brother and sisters now…

“Oh no, I’m a firm believer in spanking on his shorts… Well, first I grabbed him and gave him a few swats with the ruler. Then I told him to go upstairs and get ready for bed,
“I waited a few minutes, then went up and got the hairbrush from my dresser and went into his room… He started crying when he saw me with the hairbrush, but I was determined to teach him a lesson – and I did!

“I don’t know… I never count the spanks I give out. I just smack until I think they’ve learned a good lesson…

“Sometimes their father uses the belt. I like the hairbrush because it’s easier for me, as I like to use smacking when they’re over my lap, and with the strap it’s difficult to get any kind of leverage…

“Well, if he didn’t learn his lesson today, he knows that from now on he’s going to get the hairbrush.”