Too Big For Your Britches VIII

From: [email protected] (tbfyb)

Having just finished the final installment of this autobiographical essay on my childhood spanking experiences I decided that an epilogue of some kind was necessary to dispel what might otherwise leave the reader with the impression that I suffered, or feel that I suffered, an abusive childhood. I did not, and do not.

As I look back at my childhood I recall far more positive impressions of that childhood than the essays presented here impart. Remember, these essays were prepared for this forum, not the "Happy Days; a fond remembrance of the 50's and 60's" web page.

If it were otherwise I would, in fairness, recall that both my parents were very supportive. My mother did not work outside of the home and was always there when I needed her. My father, in addition to his full-time work responsibilities, spent many hours performing fatherly tasks. He read stories. He helped me assemble countless models (airplanes, ships, cars). He helped me with my homework. He played catch, took me to fast pitch softball games, taught me to bowl and play table tennis. He took me fishing (even though I know today that he did not, and does not enjoy fishing). He was active in scouting and suffered through some pretty miserable camping experiences; camping trips at which only the mosquitoes had a good time.

My Mother and Father were always united, I learned quickly that it was not possible (or advisable) to play off one parent against the other. Together they helped me learn the difference between right and wrong and the satisfaction that can be derived from hard work. I got along with my parents and still do. We got along, but they were not my friends; they were my parents. I loved them both, and still do. I respected them both, and still do respect them. When I behaved myself we had good times together. When I misbehaved, I was punished; but I was punished only when I misbehaved. And, after a spanking had been administered, the incident that prompted the punishment was largely forgotten.

Still, I strongly believe that their choice of discipline was wrong. You can teach children positive lessons without spanking. Did I survive? Yes. Did I survive unscathed? No. Did spanking turn me into a spankophile? Perhaps. Did it make the difference between my being a productive citizen (I'm a bureaucrat, so please take the word productive with a grain of salt) or a criminal? I don't think so.

As a spankophile, I hope you enjoyed these remembrances as much as I enjoyed writing them down. tbfyb

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