Too Old To Be Spanked   

(Told in three points of view)

By RPonda

 

Narrative

 

Danny was twelve years old now and had been seriously thinking of something for a while. He finally decided to approach his dad. Making sure he wasn’t already in any trouble before he talked to him, Danny began the conversation after dinner one night. “Dad,” he said.

 

Jack looked up. “Yes, Danny.”

 

“Can I talk to you about something?” Danny asked hesitantly.

 

“Of course,” Jack said, getting more and more curious about what Danny wanted.

 

“Um,” Danny said, “I think I’m getting too old for you to be spanking me.” When his dad didn’t say anything, he continued, “I mean, I’m getting bigger and you’re getting older, and I don’t want you to hurt your hand or anything.” ‘Boy that was a stupid thing to say,’ Danny thought.

 

Jack pretended to give it some thought. “You know, you may be right,” Jack told him.

 

Danny lifted his head in surprise. “I’m right?” he questioned in disbelief. He didn’t think his dad would agree with him so quickly.

 

“Yeah,” Jack said, a twinkle in his eye, which made Danny worry. “At least about the hurting my hand part.”

 

“Oh,” Danny replied, not sure what Jack was getting at.

 

“Sure,” Jack said, standing up. “You know I think it’s time I found my father’s paddle. I think it’s in the attic somewhere.”

 

Danny grabbed Jack’s arm, he remembered what his friend had told him about how much a paddle hurt. “Wait a minute, Dad. What are you talking about?”

 

“You should know what I’m talking about, Danny,” Jack answered. “You brought it up. I think you are about the same age I was when my dad started using his paddle on me instead of his hand.”

 

Danny groaned. “That’s not what I meant, Dad. Please sit down for a minute.”

 

Jack sat back down to listen. “So, what did you mean, Danny?”

 

Danny rubbed at his thumb. “I meant that I’m too old to be spanked at all,” he answered quietly.

 

“Oh,” Jack said. “So, does that mean you’re old enough to be on your own?” Jack could recall his own discussion with his father about this subject. He found himself using the same words his father had.

 

“No, Sir,” Danny answered quickly. In no way did he want to be on his own.

 

“Well,” Jack continued, “if you’re not old enough to be on your own, then you still need to live by the family rules, right?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” Danny already knew he’d lost the argument. He was only hoping to not make things worse at this point.

 

“And if you live by the family rules, then you take responsibility for following those rules.” Jack knew he had him, but he decided to make him sweat a little.

 

“Yes, Sir,” Danny agreed.

 

“And if you take responsibility for those rules, you accept the consequences for breaking those rules,” Jack stated firmly.

 

“Yes, Sir,” Danny said in resignation, hanging his head.

 

“And you know that the consequence for breaking the rules is being spanked,” Jack said, finishing.

 

“Yes, Sir.” Danny had given up, but Jack hadn’t.

 

“So, what is it that’s really bothering you?” Jack asked gently.

 

“I don’t like being spanked,” Danny said, so quietly Jack could barely hear him.

 

“And,” Jack pushed, knowing there had to be more to it than that.

 

“And,” Danny reluctantly continued, “none of my friends get spanked.”

 

 “How do you know none of your friends get spanked?” Jack asked, as he pulled Danny to sit on his lap.

 

“They told me,” he answered.

 

“And you told them you get spanked,” Jack commented.

 

“No,” Danny admitted.

 

“If you wouldn’t admit to your friends you get spanked,” Jack questioned, “what makes you think they’re being honest with you?” Danny shrugged his shoulders. “Besides, you already know one friend who gets spanked.”

 

“I know,” Danny agreed, leaning back into his dad.

 

“So,” Jack asked. “Do I go find the paddle?” Danny’s eyes grew wide in alarm. “Or do we continue the way we always have?”

 

“The way we always have,” Danny replied.

 

“You do know how to avoid a spanking, right?” Jack asked pointedly.

 

“Yes, Sir,” Danny admitted grudgingly. “Don’t break the rules.”

 

“You got it in one, Danny,” Jack said, hugging him.

 

 

 

Danny’s POV

 

I’d been thinking about it for a while now. I’m twelve years old and my dad still spanks me. I’m too old for spankings. It’s time I did something about it, I think. I had to make sure to talk to him when I wasn’t already in trouble, otherwise he’d think I was just trying to get out of trouble. Well I hadn’t been in trouble for a week, so tonight after dinner I decided to go for it. “Dad,” I said.

 

My dad looked at me. “Yes, Danny.”

 

“Can I talk to you about something?” I asked. Good start I thought to myself. Get his full attention.

 

“Of course,” my dad said. He had that curious look on his face I don’t like, like he thinks I’m going to amuse him.

 

“Um,” I said, not sure how to say it, “I think I’m getting too old for you to be spanking me.” Great, my dad’s just looking at me and not saying anything. I’d better say something else or I don’t have a chance, “I mean, I’m getting bigger and you’re getting older, and I don’t want you to hurt your hand or anything.” Boy that was a stupid thing to say, I thought. You’re getting older. Great way to gain points, NOT.

 

Oh no, now he’s pretending to think about it. Rubbing his chin. I hate that. I look down at the floor. “You know, you may be right,” he said.

 

What? I looked up at him in surprise. “I’m right?” I asked stupidly. He said he agreed, so I must be right. Jeez, I didn’t really think he’d agreed with me, at least not without some more discussion.

 

“Yeah,” my dad said. Dang, he’d gotten that twinkle in his eye. He knew something I didn’t. “At least about the hurting my hand part.”

 

“Oh,” I replied. Wait a minute. He’d only agreed with the hurting his hand part. It didn’t look good.

 

“Sure,” he said, standing up. “You know I think it’s time I found my father’s paddle. I think it’s in the attic somewhere.”

 

I grabbed my dad’s arm. I had to stop him. My friend had already told me how much more a paddle hurt than a hand. This wasn’t going how I had planned. “Wait a minute, Dad. What are you talking about?”

 

“You should know what I’m talking about, Danny,” he told me. What was he talking about, I knew, I didn’t have a clue. “You brought it up. I think you are about the same age I was when my dad started using his paddle on me instead of his hand.”

 

I groaned. Great, he’d brought up his dad. I never won when he did that. “That’s not what I meant, Dad. Please sit down for a minute.” I had to at least stop him from getting that paddle.

 

He sat back down to listen to me. At least I had a chance. “So, what did you mean, Danny?”

 

I rubbed at my thumb. I do that when I’m nervous. “I meant that I’m too old to be spanked at all,” I answered quietly. Didn’t he get it.

 

“Oh,” he said. “So, does that mean you’re old enough to be on your own?”

 

“No, Sir,” I answered quickly. On my own! Was he crazy? I’m only twelve. In no way did I want to be on my own.

 

“Well,” he continued, “if you’re not old enough to be on your own, then you still need to live by the family rules, right?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” I answered respectfully. My dad was big on that. I knew I was toast. I could only hope to not make things worse at this point.

 

“And if you live by the family rules, then you take responsibility for following those rules,” my dad said.

 

“Yes, Sir,” I agreed. What else could I say, he’d won and he knew it.

 

“And if you take responsibility for those rules, you accept the consequences for breaking those rules,” he stated firmly.

 

“Yes, Sir,” I said in resignation, hanging my head. Fine, now he was doing the ‘If You Give a Mouse a Cookie’ routine. I think I hate that book.

 

“And you know that the consequence for breaking the rules is being spanked,” he said.

 

“Yes, Sir.” I was glad he was done. Now maybe I could just go away and disappear.

 

“So, what is it that’s really bothering you?” he asked gently.

 

No, that’s not fair. I thought we were done. I didn’t want to him to know why I started this. However, I knew he wouldn’t let me go until I answered him. “I don’t like being spanked,” I said quietly.

 

“And,” he pushed.

 

“And.” Why wouldn’t he just drop it? I reluctantly admitted, “None of my friends get spanked.”

 

 “How do you know none of your friends get spanked?” he asked. Oh no, he pulled me onto his lap. I was too big to sit on his lap, wasn’t I?

 

“They told me,” I answered.

 

“And you told them you get spanked,” he commented.

 

“No,” I admitted.

 

“If you wouldn’t admit to your friends you get spanked,” he asked, “what makes you think they’re being honest with you?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Besides, you already know one of your friends who gets spanked.”

 

“I know,” I agreed. What else could I do. He had me. I snuggled in closer. Maybe I wasn’t too big to sit in his lap.

 

“So,” he asked. “Do I go find the paddle?” My eyes popped out. That was a stupid question, not that I’d tell him that. “Or do we continue the way we always have?”

 

“The way we always have,” I replied. I so did not want to be paddled.

 

“You do know how to avoid a spanking, right?” he asked pointedly.

 

Please weren’t we done yet! “Yes, Sir,” I admitted grudgingly, of course I knew how. Didn’t think it’d happen though, unless…no, don’t think about the paddle. “Don’t break the rules.”

 

“You got it in one, Danny,” he said. Then he hugged me. Oh well, at least I knew where he stood.

 

 

 

Jack’s POV

 

My son approached me after dinner one night. “Dad,” he said.

 

I looked up. “Yes, Danny.”

 

“Can I talk to you about something?” he asked hesitantly.

 

“Of course,” I said. I was getting more and more curious about what Danny wanted. He seemed so serious.

 

“Um,” he said, “I think I’m getting too old for you to be spanking me.” I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. I guess he thought I was waiting for more, so he continued, “I mean, I’m getting bigger and you’re getting older, and I don’t want you to hurt your hand or anything.”

 

I pretended to give it some thought. Too old. What does he mean too old? Oh yeah, I remember, I think I’d had this conversation with someone else before. Now I knew what to say. “You know, you may be right,” I told him.

 

His head lifted in surprise. “I’m right?” he questioned in disbelief.

 

“Yeah,” I said, a twinkle in my eye. I had him wondering now. Time for the next step. “At least about the hurting my hand part.”

 

“Oh,” he replied.

 

“Sure,” I said. Then I stood up. “You know I think it’s time I found my father’s paddle. I think it’s in the attic somewhere.” That should have him worried.

 

He grabbed my arm to stop me. “Wait a minute, Dad. What are you talking about?”

 

“You should know what I’m talking about, Danny,” I answered, making him think about it. “You brought it up. I think you are about the same age I was when my dad started using his paddle on me instead of his hand.” He hated it when I mentioned how my dad disciplined me.

 

He groaned. “That’s not what I meant, Dad. Please sit down for a minute.”

 

I could do that. I knew I’d won the discussion. I sat down and asked innocently. “So, what did you mean, Danny?”

 

He rubbed at his thumb. He does that when he’s nervous. I wished I could break him of the habit. “I meant that I’m too old to be spanked at all,” he answered quietly.

 

“Oh,” I said, like I didn’t already know. “So, does that mean you’re old enough to be on your own?” I could recall my own discussion with my father about this subject. I’d lost, too. So, I figured I might as well use the same argument.

                  

“No, Sir,” he answered quickly.

 

“Well,” I continued, using the ‘If You Give a Mouse a Cookie’ analogy (he loves that book), “if you’re not old enough to be on your own, then you still need to live by the family rules, right?”

 

“Yes, Sir,” he answered.

 

“And if you live by the family rules, then you take responsibility for following those rules.” I knew I had him, but I decided to make him sweat a little.

 

“Yes, Sir,” he agreed. What else could he do? We’d lived by these rules for a long time.

 

“And if you take responsibility for those rules, you accept the consequences for breaking those rules,” I stated firmly.

 

“Yes, Sir,” he said, hanging his head.

 

I was beginning to feel a little sorry for him. “And you know that the consequence for breaking the rules is being spanked,” I said, finishing.

 

“Yes, Sir,” he said sadly.

 

That sadness bothered me. “So, what is it that’s really bothering you?” I asked gently, needing to know what had really started this conversation.

 

“I don’t like being spanked,” he said, so quietly I could barely hear him.

 

“And,” I pushed. Nobody likes to be spanked. I knew there had to be more to it than that.

 

“And,” he reluctantly continued, “none of my friends get spanked.”

 

Ah, that’s it. “How do you know none of your friends get spanked?” I asked, as I pulled Danny to sit on my lap. I thought he needed some closeness right now.

 

“They told me,” he answered.

 

“And you told them you get spanked,” I commented, knowing I’d never admitted to my friends I was spanked unless I already knew they were, too.

 

“No,” he admitted.

 

“If you wouldn’t admit to your friends you get spanked,” I questioned, “what makes you think they’re being honest with you?” I tried to get him to realize his friends might not be telling the truth either. He shrugged his shoulders. “Besides, you already know one of your friends who gets spanked.”

 

“I know,” he agreed. Finally, he leaned back against me. I held him tighter.

 

“So,” I asked, ready to finish up for good. “Do I go find the paddle?” He eyes grew wide in alarm. I think, he thought, I’d forgotten about it, or hoped I had. “Or do we continue the way we always have?” I asked, giving him a way out.

 

“The way we always have,” he replied.

 

“You do know how to avoid a spanking, right?” I asked, making my final point.

 

“Yes, Sir,” he admitted grudgingly. “Don’t break the rules.”

 

“You got it in one, Danny,” I said. I hugged him tighter. I knew he’d break the rules again, all boys do. However, he knew his boundaries, and that’s what mattered.