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True Story Tuesday is here! Get your fill of gobsmacking stories that are amazing, hilarious, miraculous, outrageous and (mostly) true!
You've probably already got a contender written in a blog post... and we call could use some ooohs, ahhhs, no way joses, and comment love, right? Just grab the code under the TST button on the ride sidebar, throw it in your post somewhere, then come back and link your story up below!
Y'all know I deserve a bit of a break from the crazy true stuff that has happened to yours truly, right? (The Great Pee Debacle of 2010, and Can I Call This A Dance Injury?). So this week is brought to you by the man who delights in hijacking his wife's blog... I'm just gonna squeeze my eyes shut and hope for no unflattering photos...
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Lessons Learned
This is for anyone who has danced the one armed circular high step around a parental unit.
And no, I am not talking about a new Scottish Highland fling.
And by no means am I delusional enough to think that I was dancing with the stars.
Not that my Mom isn't a star in my eyes....
But when you are a young budding redneck American lad, and your Mother is fed up enough to tell you to go pick out your beating stick...
DO NOT, and I repeat DO NOT under any circumstances be foolish enough to think for a moment that a switch will be less painful than a two by four....
Just saying.....
Now I am not lamenting the fact that I got a switching - looking back I probably deserved many more than I got.. (My Mom was nice like that) LOL
But I am bemoaning the fact that I was not cognizant of the fact that a switch will sting like the dickens whereas a board will just leave a dull ache.
I think that my Mom knew that, so when she sent me after the chastising implement of my choice, and I came back with a switch and not a board, the knowing look in her eyes didn't become relevant until well after the punishment had been administered...
That was when the wisdom of the rod of correction became enlightenment to the seat of my understanding...
A whole new respect was instilled in my young and devious little mind, and if I recall correctly it was about a month of Sundays before I once again tried outwit that particular parental unit...
Mom was the sweetest most Angelic and Saintly person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing..
Butt even to this day, the mere mention of a switch will bring an evil glint to her eye, and on that particular day turned her into a Maniacal manifestation of parental wrath....
So a word to the wise, if you are reading this and are young enough to dance the circular high step, DO NOT pick a switch if you have a choice....
And if you are a parental unit, the option of allowing your child a choice might instill a wisdom of whole new meaning in their budding minds....
Just saying.......
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You know you've got one of these stories told 'round the dinner table. Ones that make your kids actually believe YOU were a kid at one time :) Just link up and we'll be around for some comment love!
18 comments:
Yep, I know this one. My Mom was the queen of sending us to get our own hickory as we call them in GA. I learned pretty quickly that those little thin ones hurt like the devil. Another key note in my family was that you better know better than to break your hickory. Then Mom made us pick 3. Ok she made me because I was the only one defiant enough to break it. More than once I might add. Now where does Blaze get his stubborn streak from again?? It must be Chris. (*cough cough*) By the way, trust me, I deserved every one I ever got.
Ugh, my parents were both raised into that whole 'Spare the rod, spoil the child' BS mentality, so I've been switched on several occasions in my life. Mostly, it was just the hand, though my a-hole dad was fond of his belt. Personally, I'm of the school of No Inanimate Objects...which rules out everything BUT my hand. And I'm in possession of a KILLER look! Let me get deadly quiet with THE LOOK on my face, and all mischief stops at my house IMMEDIATELY. LOL I must admit, your mom was a wise woman to let you choose your own lesson to learn! =) That sort of thing just doesn't do it for me...I can't bear to think of my kids enduring what I had to go through with it, so I invented THE LOOK. xD Works every time! Great post this week, Mr. Daddy! =)
Okay, I am standing here trying very, very hard not to laugh outloud since Dw's sleeping a few feet from me...where in the world did you find that second picture? Looks like Dw's mom. **uproarious laughter** Don't tell him I said that.
Ha! My mom used to make my brothers pick out their own switch! I, of course, never had to since I was such a perfect child. ;)
I am cringing at the thought. Thank goodness I only got the hand, and I can count on my one hand the number of spankings that I actually got as a child!
I'm laughing at passionofthemom's comment because "the look" was all it took for us kids to behave as well. ;-)
Oy... this is a million times more hilarious if you actually know the poor mother he is referring to. Yes, she is angelic and saintly and I can only *imagine* what Mr. Daddy must have done to get a switchin'!
Belt or spoon? That was our question Dad=belt Mom=spoon Never did you want to hear the words..."Wait until your Dad gets home". LOL
Not that I ever heard those words. *sigh*
We had a paddle...yep in the drawer right next to the address book...and it was split down the middle. Never heard the words 'wait until your dad gets home'! It was all about the right now! And ya know what's funny...that when I have brougth it up to my parents, they have seem to have 'blocked' out that paddle! Yea right! That's convienent!
I never had to pick my own switch, but I did get my fair share of spankings. And nope..no waiting til Dad got home either. Mom could handle it just fine. And you wanted her to...cuz Dad's were far worse!
We got the wooden spoon! Over time, just the sound of that drawer opening would send us running. Silly Sally, 2 years younger with a higher tolerance of pain, would go right under her bed where my moms arms couldn't reach. She'd be waiting though ... one spoon broke right in half after she just wouldn't quit laughing as she took her licks .... my poor mom.
Brian told me stories about all the yardsticks that his dad broke on their rear ends while they laughed. Then he switched to the hand and that was no laughing matter.
I got paddled a few times, too...mostly due to being blamed. I didn't get into too much trouble as a youngun...I got spanked enough when I didn't do anything to provoke it more!
I didn't experience any spanking in my day! I was always very good at getting away with things or blaming it on my siblings!
That's a boy for ya. They just can't figure those things out ahead of time. They've got to experience it first hand.
My brother and decided to protect our tushes one time when were probably 8 & 10 and stuck books down our pants. It seemed to back fire at the time as I think we got paddled for that as well as whatever the original offense was but surely that was one of those occasions where they had to leave the room to laugh before imposing the discipline. :)
Just rolling on the floor in laughter... SO many things to write about, But i think your many readers have it all covered...
With the exception of the spanking i got for ducking once....I think I will post on our fridge a statemtnt...
"Think carefully when choosing the paddeling device" and see if anyone figures it out
ROFL - what more is there to do!
Mr. D--
Thanks for working in the word "Switch" a dozen times in your blog post. I really appreciate the subliminal advertising for my blog. You're the best.
BTW, we also got the "wooden spoon" at my house. Same one used to stir boiling spaghetti left ovals welts on our, um, upper thigh...
ROTFL! My mom used to send us to the kitchen to get a wooden spoon. To this day I still remember how ticked off she was when I brought back a thin silicone spatula, thinking that might hurt less.
It didn't. Yeouch.
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