Spank

Last Saturday, Diana and her mom went out for a birthday dinner at some fancy French joint. Diana’s dad Don came by to act as semi designated driver and hang out to watch football.

Shortly after 8, Luca’s internal egg timer went off and he decided to be grouchy for exactly one hour. I was busy trying to get Elijah into bed, so Don grabbed Luca and enveloped him in his arms.

And began spanking him on his butt. Hard.

Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap.

For a second, I almost stepped in. “Take it easy, there, muscles. He’s seven weeks old.”

Luca got a look on his face that said, “What? Is? Going? On?” And then sighed, let the spanking take over and quieted down. A few minutes later he was fast asleep.

Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap.

The last few nights, I’ve taken to the old spankeroo myself during Luca’s nightly moment of anger. But I don’t seem to have the right touch. I’ve tried the theme to “Hawaii Five O.” I’ve tried “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” by Iron butterfly. I’ve even tried to remember some of the drum solos from high school marching band. But I was in the low brass section. The Dungeons and Dragons table of the marching band cafeteria. So my drumming is unintended syncopation at best.

It works, but not as well as Don, the Spank Master. I wondered if it was because his hands are calloused from years of actual work instead of my soft, computer caressing fingers.

And yes, I have wondered if his love of spanking will manifest itself later in life. But I assume his adult spanking will be a secret that he wont fully understand. Until he reads this blog entry.