Friday, November 29, 2013

Dual Stories 2; Single Mother, Teen Son

© Guyspencer 2013

                                      Dual Stories 2; Single Mother, Teen Son

As Susan Evans pulled into the mall parking lot, she consoled herself with the comforting theory that many other distraught parents must have preceded her into much this same situation.  She had received a call from mall security.  They had her son Owen in custody.  He had been caught red-handed with shoplifted merchandise.

The security superintendent had made it clear that he intended to involve the police, but she considered it a hopeful sign that he had called her first.

In the security office, they allowed her into a small room where she found Owen sitting glumly.  He cringed at the sight of her.  “Just wait until I get you home,” she hissed.  Simultaneously, she wondered how many other parents had said those same words in this room.  Also, she remembered a time not so many years ago when the teenage version of herself had been in much the same spot.  She thought, “He needn’t hear about that.”  

The superintendent came into the room.  Susan introduced herself and apologized to the man before asking if he had called the police yet. 

“No,” he replied officiously, “but company policy specifies that we press charges against shoplifters.”

“I understand completely,” Susan said, “but can we talk privately?”  Perhaps only because Susan was good-looking and the Superintendent was male, she got her way.

In his office, Susan was shown the stolen merchandise, a gaudy shirt.  Thanks to a good education, and unlike many other single mothers, Susan had a good job.  So money wasn’t Owen’s problem.  Had Owen really wanted a new shirt, he could have simply asked for the money.  Furthermore, the shirt wasn’t even in Owen’s size!  It was a medium.  Owen was a large and solid boy.  He wore a large shirt, sometimes extra large.  Still, Susan didn’t doubt Owen’s guilt.  She could see it in his eyes.  Besides, he hadn’t even bothered to protest his innocence!

By now, Susan had a clear grasp of her priorities.  First, she needed to extract Owen from this mall security office without involving the police.  Then she needed to figure out why Owen stole that shirt.  After that, she would see to his punishment!

Trying not to show her nerves, she gave the security superintendent her best smile, and then made her best pitch; “I realize that you have a company policy to follow, but Owen has never done anything like this before.  To nip this strange new behavior in the bud, he needs a lesson he will never forget.”

She waited for the man to nod in agreement before she moved in to make her point, “But the severity of that lesson is your choice.  He is seventeen.  If you let the police handle this, he might end up with a juvenile offense record, but considering this is a first offense they will do little else to him.  As you doubtless know, at age eighteen the county automatically expunges all minor juvenile offenses.”

She waited for him to nod reluctant agreement, before forging on, “However, as his parent I have powers that the police can only dream about.  So which do you think would do him the most good?  A temporary police record or a blistered ass?” 

Intrigued, the man asked, “How do I know you would actually follow through with that?”

“Loan me your belt for a few moments, let me in that room with my son, and listen at the door.  You’ll have no doubt!”

“Whoa!” the man exclaimed, making the referee’s classic “time out” sign with his hands.  “That would REALLY be against company policy!”

Then he thought for a moment, “How could you do that?  You’re a single mother right?  That boy must outweigh you by fifty pounds.”

Determination burned in Susan’s eyes.  “That hasn’t been a problem yet, and I’ve got adult male backup if it ever is.  Believe me, if you let me take him home, Owen will get the bottom tanning he deserves!”
Ultimately, after calling Owen into his office and convincingly threatening him with jail time, the supervisor allowed the scared boy to leave with his mother.  In exchange, he elicited an official signed paper acknowledging that Owen was banned from the mall for the next twelve months, plus a very unofficial but sincere promise that Susan would see that Owen received that promised  corporal punishment.

Owen and his mother barely spoke on the way home.    

Owen had never met his father, and likely never would.  In a stunning few days of irresponsibility whilst celebrating her new college degree, Susan had hooked up with a hunky expatriate oil worker who happened to be home vacationing in the states.  Susan had thought she was protected from pregnancy, and had assured the man so.  So he was back somewhere in the Saudi oil fields before Susan even suspected her pregnancy.  Rightly or wrongly, Susan chose to avoid complications by never contacting him again.  To this day, he has no idea that he has a son.  

From the day she had “failed” that pregnancy test, she had devoted her life to her son and her career.  Resultantly, there had simply never been room in her life for another man.  Her celibacy wasn’t a lifetime commitment however.  In her usual practical manner, Susan realized that there will be a big empty spot in her life when Owen leaves for college next year.  Susan planned to combat that by resuming dating as soon as Owen left home.  Perhaps she could find a nice man to spend her golden years with.

Owen was a senior in high school, and finally a member of the varsity football team.  The constant practice had been good for him, toughening and shaping his large body.  His football coach, Coach Nelson, had told Susan that Owen was no natural athlete, but that he worked hard, was a good learner, and an asset to the team.      

Owen wasn’t naturally a sociable person, but Susan had noticed that he seemed to have made some new friends lately and had been spending a lot of time with them.


At home, she patiently tried to talk to Owen, but he clammed up as only a teenager can.  Finally, she realized that she needed to take action or she would never learn why he had taken up shoplifting.

“OK Owen,” she said firmly, “We need to change the dynamic here.  Strip down to your underwear.”

He recoiled, “Don’t do this mom; please!  I’m too old for that kid stuff.”

She held her ground, but hid her fright.  For the first time it really looked like Owen might refuse.  If he did, would she have any control left at all?

Before he had a chance to say “no”, she reluctantly pulled out her “heavy artillery”.

“You know that Coach Nelson has offered to give me any help I need with you.  Should I call him right now?  I’ll bet he could be here in ten minutes.  Will you dare say ‘no’ to him?  And by the way, do you want him to know that you’re a thief?”

Susan was taking a chance!  That offer from the Coach had been real enough, but what Owen didn’t know was that his mother was highly unlikely to take him up on it.  Oh Susan trusted him just fine to coach her son on the football field, but his unsolicited offer of disciplinary help had sounded just a bit too eager to her.  So she avoided meeting him in any private circumstance.

Fortunately for Susan, her bluff worked! least it worked this time.  Grumbling, Owen kicked off his shoes, shucked off his team t-shirt and reluctantly dropped his pants. 

She walked up to her son, slipped his briefs down in back, and gave him six sharp slaps to each buttock.  “Go stand in the corner and think.  Then tell me when you’re ready to sit down and have a real conversation about what went on today.

And then, Susan picked up a book and reclined in her favorite chair.

Standing in a corner for a long time is much harder than you might think, unless you have actually tried it.  Owen could have lasted much longer if his mother had given him a stool, which is exactly why she didn’t!  After a half-hour, his feet hurt and he was starting to sway a bit.  His mind worked against his will;  What if he never talked?  Would his mother let him go to bed tonight?  What was he supposed to do if he had to pee?  It helped the swaying if he stuck his forehead right into the corner, but then his knees started to hurt!  He tried unlocking them, and that helped for a while.  Unfortunately, Owen understood all too well that shortly after he talked, his mother would paddle his ass.  But he couldn’t stay here forever ... could he?

Finally Susan heard a mournful voice from the corner, “OK Mom, I’ll talk now.  Can I come out?”

“Yes son,” she said in her most reasonable voice, “Come here, sit next to me, and let’s have a nice talk.”

And so the story finally came out.  The whole thing had been part dare, and part initiation into his new clique of friends.  It had been a  silly and dangerous stunt to show his new friends how “cool” he could be.

Susan’s relief was palpable.  Her son hadn’t become a pathological thief, but simply a misguided idiot!  Well she had a way to make him smarter!  

But first they had a long talk about exactly what “friendship” means.  She finally made him understand that friendship isn’t something you buy, especially not when the currency is stupid and criminal stunts!  In the end, Owen agreed that what he had done was wrong and also promised to avoid that particular group of boys in the future.


At that point, Owen became quite discouraged with himself.  Susan could see that he was terribly embarrassed at what he had done, and was starting to mentally “beat himself up.” 

Susan stopped him!  “No Owen, you’re just not quite grown up yet.  You still have a few things to learn.”

“Well,” he said, “How will I ever live with myself?  I’m a shoplifter now!”

Susan closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  She was reluctant to share this bit of personal history with him, but like the good mother she was, she made the sacrifice:  “Owen, you know that I had to grow up once too, right?  I haven’t always been an adult.”

He nodded, “Of course Mom.”

“And I’ve told you that I received my own share of spankings in the process...right?” 

Suddenly interested, he looked up and nodded.

She took a deep breath and plunged on, “Well now honey, I’m going to tell you about the time I got caught shoplifting.”

Owen’s eyes got big.

“Me and a friend decided that it would be really neat to have a six pack of beer.  Neither of our parents drank, and obviously we weren’t allowed to buy any, so we decided to steal some.  I was supposed to distract the beverage store owner by buying some soda while my friend Cindy snuck in the store’s back door and grabbed what we wanted.  I guess I must have acted nervous, because he saw right through me.  Next thing you know, he had us both!   Fortunately he called our parents rather than the police.”

Susan lapsed into silence, but Owen prodded her to continue, “What did your parents DO?”

“You know that red couch in your grandparents living room?”


“I can trust you to never repeat this Owen?  This is really personal, but I think you need to hear it.”

Mutely, Owen crossed his heart.

“Nobody!”  Susan repeated, “not even your best friend.”

“Honest Mom” Owen said, as he mimed putting his hand on a bible and taking a pledge. 

“Well imagine the teenaged version of your mother over the arm of that couch getting her bare bottom spanked by your grandfather’s belt!”

Owen’s mouth opened in astonishment.

“It was my worst spanking ever,” Susan explained.  “My bottom hurt!  For a week after that, I was reminded of that lesson every time I sat down.  It took another week for the belt marks to fade.  But I learned my lesson Owen.  Never again did I even think of shoplifting!”

Susan paused again, deliberately giving the wheels in Owen’s head time to turn.

Finally she asked, “Do you think that my parents did the right thing by spanking me so hard?”

No dummy, Owen knew where this question was leading.  Still he answered honestly, “Yes mom.”


And so their talk turned to Owen’s punishment.

“Fortunately for you Owen, I don’t use a belt.  But I can do a pretty good job with that paddle.  You agree that the same treatment that was fair for me is also fair for you?”

Reluctantly, knowing that he was sealing his own fate, Owen sobbed, “Yes mom.”   

“One more thing Owen; can you take your punishment like a man?” Susan asked.  “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re bigger and stronger than me.  That means that you must be man enough to cooperate with your punishment, even when it hurts like hell!”

“But what will they say in the locker room?” Owen asked, “Somebody is sure to see my bottom and know that I’ve been spanked.”

“Well.” Susan said thoughtfully, “You could always try the truth.  Tell them you did something stupid, that you owned up to it, and that you paid with your ass.  You wouldn’t need to say more than that.  You, me, and the folks in that security office are the only ones who know about this...right?”

Dubiously, Owen agreed.

“Well?  Are you ready to pay the price young man?” Susan asked.

“Yes ma-am,” he said, “I guess we need to get it over with.”

“Do you remember where the paddle is stored?”

“Yes ma-am.”

“Then go get it, and carry it back into that corner.  I want you to spend a few minutes thinking about your punishment and the lesson you are about to learn.”

Still clad only in his briefs, he obediently fetched the paddle from the hall closet and walked back to his corner. 

Susan walked up behind him, “Hold that paddle with both hands and don’t let go.”

He was puzzled, but obeyed.  Then he felt hands on the waistband of his briefs.  Still obediently grasping the paddle, he groaned helplessly as he felt his briefs go south.  She pulled them all the way to the floor and instructed him to step out.  She left them in a small white pile in the corner. 

As Owen stood naked in the corner with his white buttocks facing her, Susan went back to her book to let the boy stew for another half hour.  Although she always spanked Owen bare, this was the first time she had ever made him get naked for the event.  However, it was also the first time he had tried shoplifting!

Finally she called him in a firm voice, “OK Owen, let’s have a little talk and then get your spanking over with.”
Without turning around, Owen whined, “Errr Mom, it’s not really a good time right now.”

Immediately guessing the boy’s problem, Susan replied in a kinder voice, “I think I understand your problem son.  Don’t worry, it’s a natural thing, especially at your age.  But yes, we can wait a few minutes.”

Ten minutes later she asked him, “Better now Owen?”

“Errr, not really,” he groaned.

“It’s OK Owen, really it is.  It’s just the two of us, and I’ll never tell.  Go ahead and turn around.”

With obvious reluctance, Owen obeyed.  She smiled thinly at the sight of him holding the paddle in front of him so that it would serve as an impromptu fig leaf.”

“Go into the study and bring us that old wooden chair.”

“Um Mom?”


“Could we just go into the study and use the chair there?”

She answered patiently, “The study feels more private than the living room?”

“Yes,” he replied, “I guess that’s it.”

“OK,” she said.  “If I agree to this you will do your very best to cooperate with your spanking?”

“Yes Ma-am.”

“Then take your paddle into the study, move that chair to the center of the room, and I’ll be right in.”     


She had never intended for that old chair to be her official spanking chair, it just happened to be ideally suited to the task.  The chair is solid & heavy.  Technically speaking, it’s not old enough to be an antique, so we will have to call it “classic”.  It’s a plain wooden armless chair with solid square legs.  It has an institutional look, and probably served in some government office for untold decades.  Susan liked to imagine it sitting outside a Principal’s office where it would be used by upset parents or nervous students waiting their turn for the great man’s attention.

She had found the chair in a second hand store.  Something about it spoke to her, perhaps it was the patina on the shellac, buffed by thousands of bottoms.  Susan originally bought it to add character to her study, but it had only found one use.  Even before he was a teen, Owen was a big boy.  Today, the combination of her and Owen weighed well over 300 pounds.  She didn’t want to trust one of her dainty dining room chairs for the job, but that old office chair was perfect!

And then there was the paddle.  When Owen finally grew up enough to outweigh her, Susan had felt a need for an “equalizer”.  She happened to share this problem with a retired neighbor who spent hours in his garage wood shop.  At his suggestion, she paid a considerable sum for a modest slab of dense walnut.  The man spent a whole two weeks fashioning that board into a beautiful paddle.   It ended up slightly larger than a hairbrush with a handle that fit Susan’s hand perfectly.  The old man wouldn’t take a dime for his labor.

Like her solid old chair, Susan expected that hardwood paddle to stay in the family for generations.  But today, she needed both of them herself!


She waited about two minutes, and then reluctantly stood and followed Owen into the study.  There she found him standing awkwardly next to the empty chair.  She sat, pointed him to the space in front of her, and pinioned him with her eyes.  She noticed that the paddle was still strategically positioned in front of his groin, but she deliberately ignored it for the moment.

“Owen, this isn’t only about your shoplifting, it’s about you having the wrong kind of friends.  Friendship isn’t something you should have to purchase, especially not purchased by doing something illegal.  You’ve already agreed to stay away from those people, but starting now you are on restriction to ensure you keep that promise. Understand?”

Still hiding his budding manhood behind the paddle, Owen said “Restriction?”

“Yes,” Susan said, “But not a punishment type of restriction.  When you’re home, all will be normal except no private phone conversations.   When you aren’t at home or at school, I need to know where you are and who you’re with.  Got it?”

Slightly relieved at the mildness of his restriction, Owen answered “Yes Ma-am”.

“I’ll be paying attention, and if I catch you in a lie we will be right back here.  It’ll be you, me, the paddle, this chair, and your bare bottom.  Agreed?”

“Yes Ma-am”.

She held out her hand for the paddle.  Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Owen relinquished it.  It had been a while since Susan had seen that particular part of her son.  It not only had grown impressively since then, it was now in an impressive state!  The boy blushed and started to stammer an apology. 

She stopped him, “I told you this is normal, so don’t worry about it.  Besides, it’ll go away as soon as your mind becomes distracted by the sting I’m about to put in your bottom.” 

She smoothed out her skirt, and motioned for Owen to lay across her lap.  Between them, they managed it without putting undue pressure on Owen’s inflated member.  She positioned him carefully, his toes just barely touching the ground, his hands grabbing the chair legs for support.  From former experience, she knew to position him slightly overbalanced.  Since this gave him the feeling that he must support his body to avoid falling head first, it kept him from reaching back.

“OK son”, she warned, “You promised to ‘take this like a man’.  You’ve cooperated so far, but the hard part comes next.  Hold on to that chair with both hands, keep your toes on the ground and your legs together.  As soon as I start you’ll want me to stop, but it won’t happen.”

In a softer voice, she added one more detail, “Taking it like a man doesn’t mean taking it quietly.  It’s normal to cry, and it’s OK to make all the noise you wish.  However, I would prefer if you refrain from cussing. OK?”

His voice sounded strained, “Yes mom.”

She raised the paddle high and quickly gave him one scorching swat to the meaty center of each buttock.  He bucked and groaned “Owwwwwww.”

“Hang on tight,” she warned, and then began to pepper his buttocks with moderate paddle blows.  As Owen’s bottom reddened, Susan saw with pride that her son was trying mightily to stay in position.  Still, his involuntary reactions to the blows added a kinetic aspect to his bottom.  He choked, and then the first sobs escaped his lips.  Susan stopped for just a moment to say in a gentle voice, “It’s OK son, let it out.”   

Then she started again, adding another layer of color to his cheeks.  Soon Owen was openly bawling. 

The proper color achieved on his mounds, Susan paused again to remind him of the purpose of his spanking.  “Are you ever going to shoplift again?”

“No mom!  Honest I won’t!”

“Will you ever again let someone talk you into doing something illegal?”

“No mommy, I promise!”

She looked down at her son.  The bright red color of Owen’s muscular mounds contrasted cheerfully with the paleness of his thighs and sit spots.  “Time to even that out,” she thought to herself.

Thighs are tender and have less padding than buttocks, so she used the paddle judiciously to pepper color into that area.

As the sting grew in his thighs, Owen briefly started bawling again, but quickly changed to loud pleas for respite.  “Please mommy!  Not so hard!  Please stop for just a minute!  Owwwwwwwww!” 

Tears welled up in Susan’s eyes.  She wanted to stop, part of her wished she had never started, but she knew she had a job to do.  A light spanking might do more harm than good because he would see it as a joke.  She needed to teach her son a life’s lesson, so she gritted her teeth and continued.

As his mother continued her duty, Owen’s pleas gradually devolved into incoherent screeches.  His legs flapped like a swimmer as he absorbed the blows, but he managed to keep his vise-like grip on the chair legs. 

Susan shifted to a slower pattern of moderate-strength spanks, hitting randomly on buttock, sit-spot, and thigh and she again reminded him of why he was being spanked in a loud firm voice.

Finally she paused to closely inspect her work.  She took time to add a few blows to areas that weren’t quite red enough before finally stopping for one last pregnant pause.

She shifted him, uncomfortably putting his considerable weight entirely on her left leg.  That freed up her right leg to wrap over her son’s lower calves, temporarily trapping his legs.  “OK son, we’re almost done.  You’ve done well, you’ll only need to hang on for another minute or so, but this will be the worst.  OK?”

By now the fight had been mostly spanked from him.  Grimly, he nodded his understanding and gripped that heavy chair leg all the tighter.

She applied the brush hard and fast so that the job could be done quickly.  He screamed and jerked as his mother assaulted the twin peaks of his bottom and the two spots where buttock underside meets leg.  It took less than a minute for Susan to make four “reminder” marks that Owen would feel for the next few days.

Then it was over!

She allowed Owen to lay across her lap and to sob as she rubbed his back and massaged his neck.  Finally he looked around, and then turned his face to her in a mute request to get up. 

“Let me help you up Owen.  Be careful now, you might be a bit shaky.”

As soon as his weight left her lap, she stood and gathered him into a hug.

“Do you hate me Owen?”

He sobbed the answer she wanted to hear, “No mom.  I got what I deserved.  And I promise I learned my lesson.”

With new tears in her eyes, she hugged him even harder.

Then she noticed that Owen’s face was a mess.  She told him to wait, and then ran to the nearest bathroom to fetch a wet cloth and a towel.  While there, she opened a drawer to find a jar of aloe cream, which she slipped into her pocket.

She returned to find Owen doing a “spank dance”.  Holding the cloth and towel enticingly, she allowed him his dance & bottom rub.  As she waited, she couldn’t help but notice that Owen’s erection was history.  She had no way of knowing, but guessed that it hadn’t survived the first part of his spanking.  Finally Owen noticed his mother, and stood steady so that she could wash his face as if he were a child.

A few years ago, she would have sat back down in the spanking chair and pulled Owen into her lap, but now he was big enough to make that awkward.  Susan improvised by leading him out to the living room and sitting next to him on the couch.  Owen indulged in a last few sobs on his mother’s shoulder.  Then she invited Owen back over her lap so that she could apply the soothing cream.  Finally, she pretended not to watch as he retrieved his underpants and sheepishly restored his modesty.

She invited him back to the couch, where surprisingly they shared an unusually productive conversation.  Finally, with an unspoken but mutual desire to restore normalcy, they worked together preparing a simple supper. 

The incident was over. 

As it turned out, that wasn’t Owen’s last spanking, but it was the end of his shoplifting.    Susan would always remember that incident as one of her more successful adventures in parenting. 

© Guyspencer 2013


Anonymous Anonymous said...

This story was well written, exciting to read, and seemed plausible (at first). I have read this story several times and each time I re-read it I noticed a couple of logical flaws that challenged its plausibility.

Mom revealed how her father strapped her severely when she shoplifted as a child, then asked Owen if he felt she was fairly punished. If Owen answered honestly, he should have answered, "No". Obviously, a child hasn't been fairly punished when the bruising lasted for two weeks afterward. Her punishment was beyond severe. It was abusive. But Owen answered, "Yes", agreeing that her punishment was fair. Then Mom asked him if he deserved the same treatment as she "fairly" received. Although Owen answered "Yes", it was the wrong answer. She was not fairly treated. Then Mom implicitly told Owen that the punishment she received was NOT fair by telling Owen that she doesn't use the belt (like her father used on her), but would paddle him, instead. That's logical flaw #1. Had Owen answered his mother with a "No" (she wasn't treated fairly), he should have then asked his mother if she would have continued her life as a shoplifter if she had been given either a scolded-grounding, or even a "routine" spanking. How could Mom tell him that she would have continued to shoplift if her father hadn't beaten her so severely? The bottom line is that, since her butt was beaten to a pulp, she must therefore beat Owen's butt to a pulp to teach him a "life's lesson".

Logical flaw #2 has to do with the fact that Owen was 17 years old. Midway into Owen's paddling, Mom was thinking that she had to continue to "teach her son a life's lesson". At age seventeen, Owen is so close to being a grown man, she didn't consider that, as a man, he would soon enough be making his own bad decisions outside the reach of his mother's influence. At age 17, Owen had already become the product of his mother's upbringing. He already knew right from wrong, thus there was no "life's lesson" to be taught. He knew he made a bad decision that needed some type of correction to address his shoplifting, but not of the severity that Mom received from an abusive father.

After she severely paddled him, Owen's mother asked him if he hated her. If I were Owen, I would NOT have said, "No, Mom." I would have said, "I had learned my lesson BEFORE you paddled me. What I did was wrong, but you shouldn't have paddled me like you did to teach me right from wrong... I already knew right from wrong" If I were Owen, I would have said, "I don't hate you, Mom, but I RESENT what you did to me. Before you beat me with the paddle, I was truly sorry that I screwed up and shoplifted. Now, after you've beaten my butt black and blue, I feel only resentment for what YOU did to me! What you did to me was just as abusive as what your father did to you!"

11:26 PM, December 04, 2014  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think it was well written. Except I cannot see a mother revealing her childhood punishment to her 17 year old son. Other then that, yes it is very realistic.

10:16 PM, December 15, 2014  
Blogger Unknown said...

I found it to be well written, and the punishment to fit the crime. My parents probably would have (and did for a different offense when I was 16) done roughly the same thing. However, at 17, no matter how honest or mature he may be, Owen would NOT understand or agree that it was fair and all that. He would either cooking to Mommy for dear life like a little child or resent the punishment and be angry afterward, at least for awhile. I certainly felt both as a teenager. I didn't "get" the complexities and appreciate the MERCY of a paddling until halfway through my twenties when ADULT consequences and permanent damage caused me to reflect on just how easy I had it as a teenager. Being grounded for a month or feeling the effects of a stupid decision when I sat down for a week or two doesn't even compare with being thrown out of your home or having your child removed by the sheriff and placed in foster care.

7:09 AM, November 04, 2016  
Blogger Suzanna Nicholson said...

I found it to be well written, and the punishment to fit the crime. My parents probably would have (and did for a different offense when I was 16) done roughly the same thing. However, at 17, no matter how honest or mature he may be, Owen would NOT understand or agree that it was fair and all that. He would either cooking to Mommy for dear life like a little child or resent the punishment and be angry afterward, at least for awhile. I certainly felt both as a teenager. I didn't "get" the complexities and appreciate the MERCY of a paddling until halfway through my twenties when ADULT consequences and permanent damage caused me to reflect on just how easy I had it as a teenager. Being grounded for a month or feeling the effects of a stupid decision when I sat down for a week or two doesn't even compare with being thrown out of your home or having your child removed by the sheriff and placed in foster care.

7:11 AM, November 04, 2016  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Though the story is well written and shows a real and deep love between parent and child, Owen's responses don't seem realistic. As a teenager, v no matter how mature or honest he may be, he hadn't got the experience or cognitive ability to NOT either regress to a sniveling toddler in Mommy's arms or resent the treatment and be angry for awhile after such treatment. I know, as I was a mature and fairly responsible 16 year old until the paddle was introduced to my butt a few times, and I didn't comprehend and appreciate the full lessons until I was in my mid 20s. Being grounded for a month or having a sore butt for a week or so it's nothing compared to going to jail for breaking the rules, or being thrown out of your home or having your children removed to foster care because you neglected or forgot to take care of your responsibilities. I'm glad I learned to follow the rules and be responsible and stay away from drugs and alcohol when it was my butt or my TV at risk instead of my life or kids! But I didn't see it that way at the time!!!!

7:32 AM, November 04, 2016  

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