My husband spanked me and I don’t care.

by Lynn on July 6, 2011

Something terrifying happened this summer.
I discovered that I’m the weakest link in our family.


It’s sad to be puny.
I begged my kid to stop rowing so hard.
We were going in circles because I couldn’t keep up.


“Oh, Mom, you’re so cute.”

“No, really. I mean it. I can’t keep up with you.
You’re too strong. Paddle with less oomph, I beg you.
I no longer have the cardiovascular capacity of an elite athlete.”

Ha ha. Like I ever was an elite athlete… but my kid doesn’t know that.


“Gee, Mom, I could paddle around the lake again. Why do you look so tired?”

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I laughed tiredly and begged my kids to carry me to the car.
Fortunately, my husband took pity on me and hoisted me over his shoulder.
I muttered that I needed chocolate ice cream, and he sympathetically patted me on the butt.
Or maybe he was just copping a feel. I don’t know and I don’t care. At least I was not walking.

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