In June of 1973 my father spanked me. I haven’t forgotten it either.
I arrived home on my bike around 8pm, a good 2 hours later than I was told to. When asked why I was late, I told my folks that baseball practice went long. That’s what provoked the spanking. I lied to my father’s face. It wasn’t baseball practice. I just wanted to hang out at my buddy’s house, knew I didn’t have time to, did it anyway, then tried to lie my way out of it.
In most cases it doesn’t take more than one good punishment for lying to drive home the point that lying is wrong. By the time we reach adulthood, most of us know that lying is wrong and most of us don’t do it any more.
Read on …
chantelbot
wynmaker
