The wooden Whoopin’ spoon is called “Mr. Spoon” at our home.
Do you want to “speak” to Mr. Spoon?
Then stop whining and tell the truth.
9
@cato: around our house it was the ping-pong paddle. For “felonies” it was dad”s belt.
11
Butter cookie tin. LMAO. My Mom did beat the Hell outta me with a spoon though, broke one once.
@TonyR, My Mom never gave us the “wait ’til your Dad gets home” crap, she had no problem dispensing justice on her own.
8
In my childhood it was a wooden paddle, painted on it was a fawn and a bear cub. The phrase painted on it was “For the little dear with the bear behind.”
I think it hurt Mom more than me when she had to use it.
5
With my grandfather it was his belt, I never had it used on me but my cousin did once for disobeying him. I came close for giving a girl cousin a titty twister when I was 12 (12 yr. old’s are incredibly stupid), he only had to warn me once.
5
Gads. Mom used a flyswatter! Really? We had to bite our lip to cry so dad wouldn’t come with the belt.
5
Old fashioned, industrial-strength Grandmas used a rug beater like this:
Mine also wore dual-holstered bars of Ivory soap for washing out dirty mouths.
🙂
10
Two handed fraternity paddle and wide police belt (a gift to him from a friend) with holes in it for me. The latter was used once on my bare back and butt to convince me to NEVER again hitchhike into downtown Memphis to the Beale Street surplus store when I was 10 or 11, my favorite solo hangout at the time. Left pretty good welts! I didn’t hitchhike again until I was big enough to say NO to that kind of whippin’.
I used to hitchhike a lot in the “old days”. Picked up hitchhikers too when I could drive. I’d never even dream of it today
3
Never was beaten as a child, nor have I ever beaten a child of mine. Is child abuse really so rampant?
For me, Mom would say, “Go outside and get a switch!” (a tree branch)
I’d come in and say, “Is this good enough, Mom?”
She’d laugh and couldn’t do it.
“Have you learned your lesson?”
“Yes, Mom.”
Only happened twice. Better than a real spanking by far! I’ll never forget it. Her sense of humor was the greatest teacher. But that’s what you get from the sweetest Irish mothers.
3
Memories of Grammy and her friend Robbie the Razor Strap. That guy kept you on your best behavior .
4
Dad only used his belt a few times. The boys got it; us girls would tear up and he couldn’t do it. Once, when we were all in the living room watching TV, Dad came in to see what we were watching and reached for his belt to adjust his pants. All five of us kids bolted out of the room, leaving Dad going, “Huh? What happened?”!
9
“I think it hurt Mom more than me when she had to use it.”
…then she was doing it wrong, @Flip…
“Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him.”
Proverbs 22:15
NEVER feel bad about keeping your children out of prison later, or – God forbid – from becoming (shudder)…Democrats…
8
“Never was beaten as a child, nor have I ever beaten a child of mine. Is child abuse really so rampant?”
I was never beaten as a child. I did have dad’s belt from him and tree ‘switches’ wielded by mom used on my ass on a few occasions.
Went to school with some kids that got beaten by their parents. I had a smartin’ red ass for an hour or so. These kids had facial lacerations and contusions.
5
Only once, on the backside, and it was with a board that had trim nails still sticking out one side – it was the nearest thing that would do. A bit scary. I deserved it.
The fact it happened at all was more impactful than the spanking itself. I loved Dad and his smiling face was way more preferable and easy to get.
4
What, no crocheted toaster or toilet tissue cozy?
As for whoopin’s, my 6’4” dad’s throat clearing did the trick.
3
@Anonymous: It was a far different time and it was NOT child abuse. It would have been child abuse had it been done often and for sport. I only felt that belt once – I guess I shouldn’t even have mentioned it. My father was concerned about my being kidnapped or sexually abused by some twisted puke and didn’t feel that an explanation about such pukes would be believed by a kid as young as I. I only felt the paddle once or twice too and deserved it both times. In the real world we all used to occupy, so long ago now, actions often spoke louder and far more effectively than words.
3
I couldn’t possibly count how many wooden spoons were broken across my backside, but I do know that after many years, they ran out.
The spoon was replaced with dad’s belt. Dad had a 62″ waist and I still have the scars.
2
There was absolutely no point in spanking me. I was so stoic about the whole business — fully admit my crime, agree on the punishment and present myself at the appointed time to serve my sentence. My mother understood that an appeal to my conscience was the worst punishment I could suffer. Many’s the time I would rather been spanked.
Slow day?
The wooden Whoopin’ spoon is called “Mr. Spoon” at our home.
Do you want to “speak” to Mr. Spoon?
Then stop whining and tell the truth.
@cato: around our house it was the ping-pong paddle. For “felonies” it was dad”s belt.
Butter cookie tin. LMAO. My Mom did beat the Hell outta me with a spoon though, broke one once.
@TonyR, My Mom never gave us the “wait ’til your Dad gets home” crap, she had no problem dispensing justice on her own.
In my childhood it was a wooden paddle, painted on it was a fawn and a bear cub. The phrase painted on it was “For the little dear with the bear behind.”
I think it hurt Mom more than me when she had to use it.
With my grandfather it was his belt, I never had it used on me but my cousin did once for disobeying him. I came close for giving a girl cousin a titty twister when I was 12 (12 yr. old’s are incredibly stupid), he only had to warn me once.
Gads. Mom used a flyswatter! Really? We had to bite our lip to cry so dad wouldn’t come with the belt.
Old fashioned, industrial-strength Grandmas used a rug beater like this:
https://i.etsystatic.com/5760160/r/il/22612a/627763104/il_570xN.627763104_adqn.jpg
Mine also wore dual-holstered bars of Ivory soap for washing out dirty mouths.
🙂
Two handed fraternity paddle and wide police belt (a gift to him from a friend) with holes in it for me. The latter was used once on my bare back and butt to convince me to NEVER again hitchhike into downtown Memphis to the Beale Street surplus store when I was 10 or 11, my favorite solo hangout at the time. Left pretty good welts! I didn’t hitchhike again until I was big enough to say NO to that kind of whippin’.
I used to hitchhike a lot in the “old days”. Picked up hitchhikers too when I could drive. I’d never even dream of it today
Never was beaten as a child, nor have I ever beaten a child of mine. Is child abuse really so rampant?
For me, Mom would say, “Go outside and get a switch!” (a tree branch)
I’d come in and say, “Is this good enough, Mom?”
She’d laugh and couldn’t do it.
“Have you learned your lesson?”
“Yes, Mom.”
Only happened twice. Better than a real spanking by far! I’ll never forget it. Her sense of humor was the greatest teacher. But that’s what you get from the sweetest Irish mothers.
Memories of Grammy and her friend Robbie the Razor Strap. That guy kept you on your best behavior .
Dad only used his belt a few times. The boys got it; us girls would tear up and he couldn’t do it. Once, when we were all in the living room watching TV, Dad came in to see what we were watching and reached for his belt to adjust his pants. All five of us kids bolted out of the room, leaving Dad going, “Huh? What happened?”!
“I think it hurt Mom more than me when she had to use it.”
…then she was doing it wrong, @Flip…
“Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him.”
Proverbs 22:15
NEVER feel bad about keeping your children out of prison later, or – God forbid – from becoming (shudder)…Democrats…
“Never was beaten as a child, nor have I ever beaten a child of mine. Is child abuse really so rampant?”
I was never beaten as a child. I did have dad’s belt from him and tree ‘switches’ wielded by mom used on my ass on a few occasions.
Went to school with some kids that got beaten by their parents. I had a smartin’ red ass for an hour or so. These kids had facial lacerations and contusions.
Only once, on the backside, and it was with a board that had trim nails still sticking out one side – it was the nearest thing that would do. A bit scary. I deserved it.
The fact it happened at all was more impactful than the spanking itself. I loved Dad and his smiling face was way more preferable and easy to get.
What, no crocheted toaster or toilet tissue cozy?
As for whoopin’s, my 6’4” dad’s throat clearing did the trick.
@Anonymous: It was a far different time and it was NOT child abuse. It would have been child abuse had it been done often and for sport. I only felt that belt once – I guess I shouldn’t even have mentioned it. My father was concerned about my being kidnapped or sexually abused by some twisted puke and didn’t feel that an explanation about such pukes would be believed by a kid as young as I. I only felt the paddle once or twice too and deserved it both times. In the real world we all used to occupy, so long ago now, actions often spoke louder and far more effectively than words.
I couldn’t possibly count how many wooden spoons were broken across my backside, but I do know that after many years, they ran out.
The spoon was replaced with dad’s belt. Dad had a 62″ waist and I still have the scars.
There was absolutely no point in spanking me. I was so stoic about the whole business — fully admit my crime, agree on the punishment and present myself at the appointed time to serve my sentence. My mother understood that an appeal to my conscience was the worst punishment I could suffer. Many’s the time I would rather been spanked.