A Stepmothers Wooden Spoon

My mother had been gone for about two years.

It was at this time my father was just starting to date the woman who would become my stepmother about a year later.

My father knew I needed to be around other women as much as I could, so I had started to spend time with my godmother, Mavis.

I spent about three days a week during the summer at her home while my father worked.

I loved it there, and I loved Mavis as well.

Naturally being young at the time,  I sometimes got into a little bit of trouble.

However Mavis generally just scolded me and we moved on.

On one particular incident, though, I discovered her stricter side.

Mavis had taken me to get some things from the store and I saw this tiny troll doll.

I was sitting on the floor playing with the doll when Mavis told me it was time to go.

I acted as if I had put the doll back – but instead, I had placed it in my jacket pocket.

We came home and had lunch – but when Mavis moved my jacket to hang it up, she felt something in my pocket.

Upon checking what it was, she found the doll.

Mavis asked me whether I had stolen it – I told her I didn’t know how it got there.

I was never a good liar but even if I had been, it would not have mattered because Mavis already knew that I had stolen it.

She spent what seemed like forever scolding and lecturing me,

She then told me that two things were going to happen.

One,I was to go to the kitchen and pick out a wooden spoon from the utensil holder on the counter, and two, we were calling my dad.

I knew what the spoon was for all right and my stomach filled with butterflies.

I had to confess my sin to my dad and tell him Mavis was going to spank me.

He agreed and told me I had better do as I was told by her and not fight her.

Once I hung up the phone, Mavis instructed me to come over to where she was sitting on the couch.

She had me bend over her lap so that my feet and hands both touched the floor.

Then she started smacking my bottom with that spoon.

Even with the protection of clothing, it didn’t take long for her to make me cry.

When she had finished the spanking, she let me up.

I then was made to sit on my sore bottom at the table and write 25 times:

“I will not steal.”