When little future Mrs. Hillbilly Mom was a child, she rarely misbehaved. To begin with, that was not her nature. She was not averse to exacting revenge on her sister, the future ex-mayor's wife, but this was done surreptitiously, because little future Mrs. Hillbilly Mom did not want to get THE FLYSWATTER.
No paddle. No belt. No broken-off car antenna for the mother of LFMHM. The FLYSWATTER was her persuader of choice. Let the record show that the behavior of her two daughters was markedly better in the summer. When flyswatters were handy, and legs were bare. Not that we're resentful. We have grown up to be productive members of society. Who do not use flyswatters as persuaders.
I know a lady who used a wooden cooking spoon when her kids were little. She took it one step further than my mom, who always left her FLYSWATTER at home.
"I always have it down between the seat and the console. If they start acting up in the back seat, I can whack their legs. Mostly, all I have to do is catch their eye in the mirror, and hold it up. They straighten up right away."
She had second thoughts, though, during a camping trip.
"My daughter was in the camper. She had her doll laid out on the couch and was playing house. I heard her say, 'NO NO!' and looked in. She had take a wooden spoon out of the drawer and was whacking that doll's legs with it. I felt kind of bad. But at least my kids behave."
I'm betting her daughter will grow up to be a productive member of society.
Neither here nor there. Just a tale. Terribly politically incorrect for this day and time.
2 comments:
My mom used what ever she had on hand, even her hand. Her favorite method involved switches. If you have never experienced the sting of a switch on your backside and legs, be thankful. Mother could really get into the swinging of the switch and one could end up with welts and bloody legs. I always preferred the discipline of my dad. He would give a predetermined amount of licks with a belt and a talk about disappointing him. Yes, I miss my Daddy every day. I still pick up the phone and call. My step mother answers and we spend some time talking about him and things we miss the most. I am still surprised when I don't hear his voice on the other end of the line, though.
Kathy,
My mom could wield a mean flyswatter. Welts were common, but nothing broke the skin. My dad NEVER once used the flyswatter. His hand on a rare occasion, but the threat of his intervention was enough.
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