And over the years, each Sunday night spanking would revive memories of all the preceding spankings going back years while promising an infinite series of future lessons.
Though we got older, the Sunday night ritual created a firm tie to our past and reminded us we were still in some ways treated like little boys. With the demerit chart hanging in full view in the kitchen, we were visually reminded of what to expect on Sunday at least four or five times a day.
The more the number of demerits accumulated, the more tortuous the waiting became towards the week’s end.
With so much free time on Saturday and Sunday, the weekends were always the hardest time for me.
On top of that, there was always the added uncertainty of whether or not my mom might have lady friends over for dinner or go out and leave me in the hands of a babysitter charged with administering the Sunday night spanking.

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