Parker's First

I think it was a little hard for Parker when he moved in with us, because his school and friends were on the other side of town. The fact that he and Van are close to the same age did help a lot. However, Parker was ecstatic when he learned that Clint Goodman, the cousin of one of his best friends, lived right across the street from us. And the fact that he and Donny Malone are the same age was almost as good. Between Donny and Clint, Parker was introduced to a number of boys, with whom he quickly made friends, which let him quickly settle into our neighborhood.

I’m comfortable with a fairly small Scout den. Because I started it for Van, all the boys in my den happened to be his age. When Scooter and Chase started second grade, and were old enough to join, they started attending my den, but that raised the numbers pretty high. And then Parker wanted to join.

That actually wasn’t a hard problem, because Kim had already been thinking about starting a den for the younger boys. One of Parker’s new friends, Paden Hathaway, belonged to a den of mostly fourth graders that was run by his mom, Emma, so it was easy enough for us to rearrange the membership so that all three den’s were broken down by age.



Parker had been to a couple of meetings with us, but was really excited to be going to his first meeting with Emma’s den, not just because it was something of his, not just something of Van’s he was joining, but because almost all the boys in that den were his age and lived close enough to visit easily. It was a whole group of new friends for him.

Emma had already let me know that she planned her meetings to finish a bit before 5pm. Parker had already been to her house several times, and I knew it only took about ten minutes to walk it. I wasn’t particularly worried when he didn’t show up by 5:15, though. I’d not told him he had to come straight home, and I knew what happened after Scout meetings, not just from Van’s meetings, but from my own childhood.

Parker finally called about 5:50 - ten minutes before he was due home.

"Please can I stay for a while, Jack?"

"Not tonight, Parker," I answered him. "Dinner’s going to be ready pretty soon."

"Just a few minutes," he responded, not quite whining.

"I said ‘no’, Parker. It’s time to come home."

I paused for a second to see if he was going to protest again. When he didn’t, I explained.

"It’s going to take you time to come home and get washed up, and then it’s your night to help set the table. Come on home now. There’ll be other nights to play."

"Okay," he said, in a tone leaving no doubt that he saw my demands as completely unfair and arbitrary.



I didn’t expect Parker to tell everyone that he had to leave and run straight home, so I wasn’t bothered at all when he wasn’t home at 6pm. I simply made a mental note to remind him to leave so he’d be home on time in the future.

At 6:15, when I was ready for him and Van to start setting the table, I started to get a little annoyed. Bryce wasn’t annoyed, since Parker’s delay got him out of having to clear the table after dinner. On the other hand, Bryce has had his own share of problems with being home on time over the years. After a little initial trouble over Van, Bryce has become a pretty good big brother, and I could tell he was keeping an eye on the clock. As 6:20 passed and neared the final cut off, Bryce turned to me.

"You know, Parker’s pretty new still, Dad. Maybe he doesn’t remember he has to be home by 6:30, or…."

He let the ‘or else’ fade away.

"He and I have gone over the rules more than once, Bryce. Not only that, but I specifically told him to come on home. I’m glad you’re worried about him, but I think he and I are going to have to settle this, okay?"

He looked a bit glum, but nodded.

By 6:30, everyone was taking their seats at the table. Everyone was looking at the empty seat, but no one wanted to say anything. They all knew what it meant though, and conversation was a bit more subdued than normal as we started eating.

It was 6:40 when Parker came into the dining room. He’d obviously ran home, since his face was flushed. It had been a slightly warm day for October, in the mid to upper 70s, and his hair was a bit sweaty.

"I’m sorry I’m late, Jack."

He was standing next to the table looking incredibly cute. Because he’d just started scouting, his uniform was new and didn’t have many badges yet. Except for their one fifth grade member, all of Emma’s kids were still wearing their Cub Scout uniforms, so that’s where we’d started Parker. He and I had been working to catch him up with the other boys on the basic stuff, but he was still wearing the blue and gold Wolf kerchief and slide, which I still think looks best with the dark blue uniform. He was wearing navy blue walking shorts with his uniform shirt, because of the temperature, which showed off his slim legs and blue and gold socks. His hair, which he usually is at pains to keep neat, was mussed and hanging down onto his forehead, either from his run or from the cap, which he held in his hand.

Parker’s face is very expressive, and it’s proven easy for me to read his moods, whether somber, mischievous, silly, or bored. Right now there was no question that he was nervous.

"Are you hungry?"

He nodded.

"Do you want to talk about why you were late now, or would you rather eat?"

"I’ll eat," he replied quickly.

I think a couple of my boys wanted to tell him to get it over with, but they held their tongues. I don’t know if Parker thought my offer to delay meant he wasn’t in real trouble, if he was really hungry, or if he just subscribed to the idea of delaying gave him some hope for reprieve.

Considering how he tucked into the meal, I think the second was at least an influence, if not the deciding factor.



With Parker home, conversation picked up a bit, and the table soon gained it’s normal air of friendly chaos. I think Parker did notice the occasional sidelong glance flashed his way, and before supper was over, he was becoming nervous again.

"Is everyone ready for dessert?" I asked when the flashing silverware finally slowed.

I was greeted by an enthusiastic chorus of yeses.

"Great. Bobby, would you and Tracy serve, please. Leave mine and Parker’s in the fridge for now."

"But Jack…"

"But me no buts, young man. I told you that you could eat before we talked, but talk comes before dessert."

"Don’t worry," I told him after a second. "I made a bowl for everyone, so you’ll still get yours." Right after you get yours, I didn’t bother adding, but several of the boys winced, like they’d heard it anyway.

Parker came with me when I escorted him from the dining room, but started resisting as we turned towards the office.

"I don’t wanna go in there, Jack. Van says that’s where you give spankings."

"That’s one place I give spankings, Parker, but right now it’s where we’re going to talk. Come on."

He wasn’t having any of that. I think he knew what was on the way, and wasn’t going to go willingly. However, with nine-year old boys, there’s always an option. He started walking beside me, but stopped when we didn’t turn towards his room. I took his hand, and he followed me a few more steps, until he realized where we were going. I finally carried him through the living room and into my office.

Even before we reached the office door, Parker was squirming in my arms.

"Jack, I don’t wanna spanking. I didn’t mean to be late."

He obviously already knew what was coming and regretted what he’d done, but I was basically ignoring him.

"Right now, we’re going to talk, Parker," I told him once, then let him continue assuring me we didn’t need to talk or ‘talk’.



Once in my office, I sat Parker down next to my writing desk, turned the chair to face him, and sat down.

I looked at him for just a second, not trying to draw it out, but wanting to make sure I had his attention. He squirmed a bit, but when he looked at me, I spoke.

"You’re pretty sure you’re in trouble, Parker, so I shouldn’t have to say much. You and I’ve gone over the rules several times, and you’ve told me you understood them, so tell me what time you’re supposed to be home."

"Six o’clock, but I called."

"Yes, you did call, buddy, but what did I tell you?"

"To come home," he admittedly sadly. "But I did, Jack. I was coming home."

"Parker Schuller," I replied, trying not to snap, and also trying to keep a straight face, since I just can’t bring myself to call him Peter Parker, "I told you to come home before six. Are you telling me it took you nearly an hour to get here from Paden’s house?"

He had the good grace to look guilty for a second, then faced away from me before mumbling something, which I had to make him repeat.

"I walked home with Pip. He lives over there," the boy added, pointing in the general direction of over the ridge. "He told me I should come and meet his dog."

"Pip’s one of the other Webelows?"

He nodded. "His real name’s Philip."

"Well, I can understand wanting to play with his dog and wanting to spend time with your new friend, but who’s in charge while you’re living here, Parker?"

"You are," he mumbled.

"And did I tell you that you needed to come home?"

He nodded.

"And you know that you’re supposed to be home by six, don’t you?"

He nodded again, not bothering to remind me he’d called this time.

"And what happens to boys in this house when they can’t mind me or follow the rules?"

"I don’t wanna spanking, Jack."

"I know you don’t, buddy, but you didn’t mind me, you did break the rules, and you are going to get spanked. Now, C’mere and let’s get you ready."

"No, Jack. Please."

He took a step back, but only one, and didn’t resist when I pulled him back to me. I took his hands and placed them atop his head, and he left them there, as I began to unfasten his clothes, talking to him as I went.

"Parker, you and I have gone over the rules several times. As a matter of fact, you got a little upset the last time I tried to go over them with you, because you said you already knew them."

"Now," I continued, having finally worked the slide on his blue web belt loose, and pulling down his zipper, "you’ll probably forget some of the rules from time to time, but the biggest rule is that I’m in charge and you need to mind me."

"But she had puppies, Jack."

It took me a second for that to click into place. I unsnapped his shorts and spread the fly, then lowered them. He was still wearing shoes, so I left the shorts around his ankles and picked him up.

Parker didn’t resist as I moved him and bent his legs as I asked, so I could take his shoes off.

"I know how cute puppies are, and I can certainly understand wanting to see them and play with them, but couldn’t you have told Pip you have to get home, and asked if you could see them tomorrow?"

He was quiet for a moment, and I finally asked again. He admitted he could have, and you could tell it just hadn’t occurred to him. Not that I’d really expect that to occur to a nine-year old. Little kids are all about instant gratification, and it’s an unfortunate part of parenting that we have to train them to think and plan. And that sometimes that training ends up being painful.

With his shoes and shorts off, I stood him up again and began to unbutton the heavy blouse, which was hanging down far enough to cover most of his Spider-man boxers. When I moved him, his hands had left his head, but he still wasn’t resisting, though he was flinching a bit every time my hands moved.

Even though we’d had a fairly dry autumn, Parker and Van had still managed to find ways to get muddy from time to time. I’d not only bathed Parker with Van, sometimes just drawing the bath water while he or both of them got undressed, and sometimes washing his back and hair while he was in it, and had actually undressed him before. This was a totally different situation though, and all of Parker’s shyness seemed to have come back in force.

While I was undressing, I continued to lecture, reminding him what I expect of him and that he knows what happens to boys in this house when they can’t meet expectations. He wasn’t happy. He’d heard the other boys getting spanked, and definitely did not want to be the one making those noises. Yet, while he flinched and begged, he never resisted.

"When you’re wearing a regular shirt, I’ll expect you to hold it up for me like this, while I’m undressing you," I instructed him, taking his hands and demonstrating what I meant.

When he had the shirt up under his arms, exposing his pale little belly and chest, I took his boxers and slid them down. I had to ask him to lift his feet, but he did it when I asked.

With the boy standing like that, I realized how thin he really is. Parker is slightly taller than Van, but actually weighs a little less, or did when he moved in with us. I think part of that was inattention from his mom, because he’s been filling out a bit, but a lot of it is just the type of build they have. Though Parker’s only about 4’4" tall, his legs and body seem long. While he’s hardly starving, his belly was flat, he had a hint of a waist, and you could see the slight ripple of his ribs. At nearly nine-and-a-half, Parker was still a little boy. His peter looks a little shorter than Van’s, but I think that’s because of the extra roll of flesh that Van still has at the tip.

With the boy bare, I turned to my desk and pulled B4 from the drawer, then turned back and patted my leg.

"C’mere, Parker."

He shook his head.

"Parker, you know what’s going to happen. Come here."

He shook his head again, looking ready to start crying and took a step back.

I put the paddle down on the desk behind me, then stood. Parker took another step away, but wasn’t running or anything. I stepped up to him, then turned him around, lifted him by his waist, then stepped back to the chair. It was easy enough to sit while keeping a grip on him, then I lifted the boy and laid him across my lap.

Parker was already making small whining noises as soon as I put him over my lap, and began squirming around. I knew it’d sound stupid to ask him if he was uncomfortable, so instead I reached down to make sure his stomach was in the right spot. It was hard to tell for sure, so I lifted his hips and moved my right leg a bit, to make sure he had plenty of space, then put him back down and rested my hand on his bottom.

I already knew Parker had one of those sweet little boy bottoms - not real wide, but rounded and firm, yet still soft. Unlike some boys, whose cheeks seem to smush together in the middle, Parker’s were distinct, with the crack forming a little valley between them. I rubbed my hand gently across it for a second.

I thought about lecturing a bit more, but realized that in the state he was in, none of it would penetrate. I’d given a bit of thought to Parker’s spanking history - his father, a mother who’d apparently been very inconsistent with him, and how my boys got it, and had come to a rough decision on how I’d probably handle this first spanking. What he’d done needed correction, but wasn’t heinous, which made a great introduction and is what I’d really hoped for, so I lifted my hand and smacked it across his little bottom.

Normally when I give a hand spanking, I let it be almost random. This time, I used my normal pattern, giving Parker a chance to grow accustomed to it. One slap at the top of his bottom, with my fingers mostly smacking his right cheek and my palm mostly on his left. Then a second one just below that. One, two, three smacks down his left cheek, then three more down his right. Back to the center, then a little attention to each side. Once more down the center, then a couple of smacks on each leg.

Parker had been nearly crying before I started, and the first swat set him off, but it wasn’t a harsh or sore crying, just an emotional, ‘I can’t believe this is happening’ sound. That didn’t last long.

As my hand tracked up and down, back and forth across his bottom, pinkening the pale, peaches and cream skin, his soft crying quickly grew louder, and began to be punctuated by ouches and ows. As my hand started crossing already pink territory, reddening it more, the ouches became real yelps and the crying started to turn to broken sobs. By the time his upper legs were a light pink, his sobs were nearly continuous.

There was a sudden silence from Parker when I stopped. I’m sure he had no idea what the shift of my legs beneath him meant, and he must have been holding his breath, unable to believe it was already over. And then he felt the wood touch his bottom.

"No. Please, I’m sorry. Not the paddle. Not the pa-ha-del!"

The short break in his crying had been the eye, and the storm broke as soon as the paddle came up and smacked back down. Parker was crying loud and hard as the paddle followed the same pattern my hand had, leaving his little rump rosy, then red as it moved around, back and forth, up and down.

Parker had been fairly still through the hand spanks, squirming a bit and kicking a little, but before I could finish each cheek, Parker was thrashing around my lap, kicking his feet up as far as they could go, and swinging his hands around to try to get them over his bottom. He wasn’t very coordinated in his escape attempt, but was very enthusiastic about it. When I moved my left hand from his waist to pin his hand, he thrashed so hard he nearly ended on the floor.

I grabbed him as he nearly slid off my knee, dropping the paddle on his back. When I had a good grip, I tucked the paddle under my leg, then returned to a two-handed grip, lifted Parker from my lap, and placed him over my left leg, using my right to clamp down on his legs.

"No more, Jack. I learned. I learned," he swore to me.

I had to harden my heart to do it, but I’d already decided the boy was getting a full, if light, spanking for his behavior. This time, when I patted his bottom, his hands shot behind him, and I pinned them both in my left hand, holding them against his back. Only then did I pick up the paddle again.

It was pretty obvious where I’d quit the paddling, so I lined up for the next swat and thoroughly covered the rest of his bottom from upper slope to sit spots and from dimple to dimple. Parker was howling nearly from the first swat I landed after changing positions, and bawling before I got back to his legs again.

Two more swats on his legs, and I know I could have stopped then and considered the lesson learned, but I’d decided ahead of time that he needed a pretty full version of what my boys get, so I finished with two swats, back and forth, on each sit spot. By the time I’d finished his legs, Parker’s bawl was a constant cry, broken only by the need to draw breath, and he was laying limply across my leg, too sore to struggle anymore. Yet, when this swats landed on that tender bend between bottom and leg, he managed a bit more volume and a slight thrash.

Releasing his hands, I put the paddle down behind me, then spent a moment gently rubbing his blazing sore cheeks. Then I carefully lifted him and rolled him into my lap.

Parker didn’t fight me as I drew him against my chest, but he didn’t help either. He just sat there, ignoring me for a moment, unable to think about anything but his own misery. After a few moments, I felt him shift, snuggling more firmly against me, and his arms came up to wrap around me.

When he’d settled down a bit, and I felt he was comfortable and secure in the fact that I didn’t hate him and wasn’t even mad at him, I gave the lecture I’d thought about before starting the spanking.

"That hurt a lot, didn’t it, buddy?"

He made a soft noise I took as an affirmative, since I could feel him nodding against my chest.

"Was it worth getting spanked like that to see the puppies?"

"Huh-uh!" he said, very sure of his answer.

"I understand that you’re happy to be making new friends here, Parker. I’m glad about that. I’m happy for you, and I want you to make a lot of new friends and be happy, but you still have to follow the rules. It would have been a lot easier for you to follow the rules and see the puppies later, wouldn’t it?"

"Yes, sir. And it woulda hurt less, too."

"It usually does, kiddo. There are always reasons not to do what you know you should. Sometimes it’s because you don’t want to look bad in front of a friend. Sometimes it’s because you want to do something like look at puppies. I can tell you now, it’s almost always a better idea to do what you know you should."

I stopped and turned his head to look up at me, and he nodded. His eyes were very red and still leaking tears.

"Now, do you know what happens to my kids after a spanking?"

"Huh-uh," he replied, then got a thoughtful look on his face. "Corner time?" he asked.

"Corner time," I agreed. "Let’s go."

I gently set him on his feet, and reminded him to hold up his shirt and not to rub. I walked over with him to the corner, then stood beside him and rubbed his back for a moment. He was very squirmy and had a hard time keeping his hands in place, but he managed it. After a minute, I stepped away. I put the chair and paddle back in place and gathered his clothes while another moment passed.

"Okay, buddy, I think that’s enough for your first time. C’mere."

Still keeping the shirt up, he walked back to me.



"Unless I tell you otherwise, you can rub when I tell you corner time’s over." Parker had turned his fire dance into squirming in my lap, but, now that he had permission, he had a very enthusiastic rub.

When he was through, I helped him back into his boxers, then took him to my bathroom and helped him clean up a bit. After washing his hands, the two of us went back to the kitchen. I helped him onto a stool and we sat together and enjoyed our dessert.



That was a Monday evening. Parker was more quiet than usual, and also more affectionate. I think that was the first time he actually asked me to help with his bath. Once we were alone, he asked if his bottom was still red.

The next day was an appointment with his therapist, Dr. Montford. We’ve used this therapist since Tommy was a boy, and I’ve always been happy with him. One of his biggest pluses, in my opinion, is that he believes that, when it’s used consistently, fairly, and in the course of a good relationship, corporal punishment was an excellent tool.

I warned the doc, before they started the session, that Parker had taken his first trip over his lap.

When a therapist is dealing with a child, there are some things he will not tell the parents/guardians, but there are some things he shares. When he was through with Parker, Dr. Montford called me aside, and told me that he was about ninety percent certain that Parker, probably subconsciously, had chosen to provoke the spanking. He had a couple of reasons he felt that was probably true, but the one that convinced him was the one that convinced me.

"You should have heard how proud he sounded when he told me that, after his spanking, several of the boys told him ‘welcome to the family.’





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