the art of spanking

Our two wonderful daughters were born just a few years after the publication of Dr. Benjamin Spock’s book, “Baby and Child Care.” Fortunately for our family, neither my wife nor I ever read it. According to a Wikipedia article, Spock was the first pediatrician to study psychoanalysis to try to understand the needs of children and family dynamics. One of his supposed teachings, which would then be 180 degrees contrary to mine and my wife’s (and now to our older children and their children as well), was that parents should be more flexible and caring with their children, and treat them as individuals. In a nutshell, I understand that Dr. Spock was against parents spanking their children. The old conventional wisdom that my parents and most other parents of my generation believed was that parenting should focus on developing discipline. Our parents (and we) believed in lots of love, constant attention, and mutual respect mixed with occasional discipline when necessary.

Having never read a word of Dr. Spock’s book, I wouldn’t try to criticize anything in it, just report what happened in our family. As our little girls got older, we would occasionally hear other parents say, “Dr. Spock says you shouldn’t spank your children… You should talk to them instead…” We would listen politely, but carry on with our old ways that our very old-fashioned moms and dads had taught us, which was “Avoid the rod and pamper the boy.”

My twenty-five years of experience in the field of transportation management will never qualify me to speak intelligently on the subject of child care or psychoanalysis. However, having grown up with a fear of retaliation (spanking) if I misbehaved, I can say unequivocally that this particular fear has been with you for a long, long time. For me, I can remember almost eighty years ago (yes, 80 grand) when my aunt slapped me across the face for something I did. It must have been some serious misbehavior (although I don’t remember what I did wrong), but I do remember the punishment. So, I (and my wife) put that memory into practice as we teach our little ones what would happen if they didn’t act right. It’s amazing how well it worked for us and for them. Early in their young lives, we calmly explain our philosophy to them: be naughty, ignore mom or dad’s instructions, cause serious harm or distress to a brother or sister or anyone else, and you will be spanked. Here comes the critical part: Since Dad was away at work during the day and Mom was able to control her temper during a disciplinary childish act, she would calmly say to the culprit, “Honey, what you just did deserves a spanking that you’ll be administered in the spanking chair tonight when your Dad gets home from work.” Now if that naughty act took place earlier in the day, the boy had hours to worry about the next punishment that was sure to occur. Trust me, the anticipation was considerably worse than the actual spanking when it was finally delivered. My theory, therefore, is this: “A slap or spank at the moment of misbehavior doesn’t last that long, it’s soon forgotten. Or, if remembered, it was Mom or Dad losing their temper that day.”

Now here comes the fun part: Coming home from work one night, my wife told me that our youngest daughter had been naughty that day and our little girl was already waiting for me to walk her to the spanking chair. As the little girl perched on the arm of the couch, she ready for her punishment but still making her case, I lifted her skirt ready to administer my usual harmless slap(s) to her bottom. The sight she greeted me with (and I quickly called my wife over to see it) was the outline of one of the children’s Golden Books under her panties. No human being on this earth, with compassion in his soul, could have spanked that girl that night. I was not the exception. Mommy and I laugh and cry at the same time; and i even cry now as i write this story.

By the way, I think our spanking chair was probably gone when our son was born. So, he probably didn’t suffer too much anticipation or even receive the whipping that he might have deserved. He was a demon, one of those described in the old nursery rhyme that goes something like, “What are little boys made of? Earwigs, snails, and puppies’ tails. That’s what little boys are made of.” It is not necessary to quote the rest. We all know that little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice.

Maurice Chevalier, in the movie Gigi, surely got it right when he sang that beautiful song, “Thank Heaven For Little Girls.” Just another memory that stays with you forever.