Cathy Seaton and Corey
I don’t remember when I first met Cathy Seaton. She was just a new employee at the comic distributor. She was from the Dallas area, but had been living elsewhere for a while, working for one of their other warehouses. When she moved back to Dallas, she stepped in as their warehouse manager.
As you may have noticed by now, girls are not one of my favorite things, so I really didn’t notice her at first. It wasn’t until one day when I arrived at the normal pick-up time and the books weren’t there yet. This was January 1996. It seemed the plane the books had shipped on had been delayed and they weren‘t expecting to have the books ready until about 6pm. Since it was ‘96, I didn’t have a cell phone yet. The store had beeped me, but I saw no reason to stop and call, since I knew I could call from the Distributors. Since they’d not called me in time, they promised me that I’d be the first pick-up order pulled, but it left the question of what to do for the next three hours. I could have driven back to Bransom; but, with rush hour traffic what it was, it would have literally taken longer to do that than just wait.
Cathy gave me the answer of what to do. Her mom was at work and out of contact, and she had to make some type of arrangements for her son. In one of those coincidences that would be unbelievable if they happened in stories, her car was in the shop and she’d ridden to work with her mother that day, so she didn’t even have a way to pick the kid up. Having nothing better to do, I offered Cathy a ride, on the condition that she’d show me someplace decent to have dinner. She gratefully accepted.
As I said a minute ago, I don’t pay much attention to girls, but I have to admit that Cathy was very good looking. Thick, dark brown hair and deep brown eyes with fine features, she was a little short and slightly heavy, but very well-endowed.
It wasn’t far to her son’s day care and the van hadn’t had time to warm up, so I stayed out there while she ran in to get him. What she came back with was one of the most beautiful little fellows I’ve ever seen. I love dark brown eyes. They were nice on his mom, but wonderful on him. They were so big and deep, it was like you could loose yourself in them. His hair was also just as dark as his mom’s, but where hers was a little curly, his was just as thick, but straight except for a little curl at the end, where it fell to his collar and over his forehead, into his eyes. Corey's complexion was lighter than his mom's, and you could see a bit of rose in his cheeks from the cold. His nose was very nice and almost straight, with just a slight inward curve. He was almost pretty, but he managed to look one hundred-percent boy at the same time.
Corey climbed into the back seat and buckled himself in before his mom introduced us. Cathy took a good selection of comics home to him every week, and he was able to hold a good discussion on the comics that had crossed into cartoons at that point: X-Men, Spider-man, Batman, Superman, and The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, with the Power Rangers thrown in for good measure. We had a nice talk on our way to the restaurant that Cathy had suggested we try.
The place was a little Italian restaurant that Cathy had heard good things about, but hadn’t had a chance to try yet. Corey wasn’t very happy, until he learned that they had chikcen nuggets on the kids menu.
Once the meals came, Corey wasn’t happy again. He complained that the green beans didn’t look like the ones Mom made (Del Monte canned, she informed me), the chicken nuggets didn’t look like McDonalds made and neither did the fries. When Cathy told him to just try them, he balked and whined and just plain didn’t mind. I could tell that Cathy was about to pull her hair out, or maybe his.
"Cathy," I asked her, "do you mind if I handle this?"
She looked at me for a minute, weighing me (and maybe the fact that I had a 14-year old son at this point), then looked at him.
"Please do. I’d like to be able to have just one meal in peace. If you think you can give me that somehow…"
"Are you sure…" I started, not wanting to offend her.
"Oh, yes. Do whatever you need to do."
Corey had been watching this with some interest and a bit of trepidation, and he obviously wasn’t sure what to expect when I turned to him.
"Corey, you ordered that food, so please at least try it. Just because it doesn’t look exactly like you expected doesn’t mean it won’t taste good."
I felt a little hypocritical considering what a picky eater I was (and still am),but I wasn’t telling him he had to eat something he didn’t like - just to try something he did like.
The boy puffed up on me, crossed his arms over his little chest, and refused. I tried to be patient.
"Corey, you ordered that food, so you are going to at least try it. If you try it and don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it, but you ARE going to try it."
"No!"
I looked at him for a minute, then looked at Cathy. You could tell she wanted to wash her hands of the entire mess, but wasn’t sure how. I thought about it for a second, but the boy was too cute and he was giving me too good an excuse, so I decided to go for it.
"Cathy, would you excuse us for a minute? Corey and I need to go to the bathroom."
"I don’t need to go to the bathroom."
We both ignored him. Cathy obviously understood what I had in mind, but she didn’t have to think about it long before she nodded.
Corey and his mom were sitting on the far side of the table from me, and I walked around to him. He most certainly did NOT want to go to the bathroom with me, so I leaned down and explained the facts of life to him.
"You had your chance to behave, mister," I said in a low voice, trying not to embarrass him more than necessary. "Now, you can come with me or I can drag you. It’s your choice."
With reluctance showing in every muscle of his body, Corey stood and took my hand, and I led him back to the bathroom. The restaurant wasn’t very big and neither was the bathroom. It had no stalls, just a stool, a sink, and a lock on the door. I flipped the lock and turned back to Corey.
"Did your mom ask you to eat your food and stop complaining, Corey?"
He just starred at me, so I took him by the shoulders, turned him to face away from me, then placed a firm swat on the seat of his corduroys. I wasn’t holding him, so he jumped and yelped, then turned to face me, his eyes wide and a sheen of water showing in them.
"What’d ya do that for?" he complained.
I ignored him. "Let’s try that again, sport. Did your mom ask you to stop complaining and eat your food?"
He just starred at me until I reached for his shoulders again, then he danced away from me, saying "Yes, yes, don’t hit me again."
"I didn’t hit you, Corey. I swatted your bottom. There’s a difference. I’d like to say I won’t do it again, but the truth is that you’ve been rude and disobedient, so I’m about to pull your pants down and give you a spanking."
His eyes went wide again, then his face scrunched up. "I don’t wanna spanking, Jack."
"You should have thought about that earlier. Your mom asked you to try your food. I told you that you were going to try it. You had your chance."
"But you didn’t say you were going to spank me."
"I shouldn’t have had to, Corey. You’re supposed to mind because it’s the right thing to do. Spankings are for boys who didn’t do the right thing and need something to help them remember next time. Understand?"
"But I don’t wanna spanking."
One thing I’ve learned over the years is, it’s very hard have a reasonable discussion with little kids. They know what they want and nothing else is important (rather like politicians, actually).
I cupped his face in my hands and held him gently, so he was looking at me.
"Have you ever had a spanking before, Corey?"
He nodded.
"Did you get spanked because you were being a good boy or because you were misbehaving?"
"’Cause I was acting up. Is that the same thing?"
"Yes it is. Now, were you acting like a good boy at the table just now or were you acting up?"
He didn’t have to think about it, but he also obviously didn’t want to admit it. I stayed quiet and just starred into his eyes, and he finally confessed.
"I was acting up."
"So shouldn’t you have expected a spanking then?"
Tears welled up in his eyes and one ran down his cheek.
"Here’s what we’re going to do, Core. I’m going to pull your pants down and give you six good swats like I already did. Then we’re going to go back to the table and you’re going to try at least one bite of everything on your plate. If you do that, you don’t have to eat anything you don’t like."
"But Momma said…"
I interrupted him. "Your momma said I could handle you, and I’m saying you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to -- after you taste it. However, if you don’t clean your plate, you can’t have any dessert. Understand?"
He nodded, cheering up a bit at the idea he might get dessert.
"On the other hand, if you don’t try at least one bite of everything on your plate, you and I will come back in here, I’ll pull your pants AND your undies down, and I’ll warm your bottom up so much you won’t need your coat when we go back outside. I’m sorry if you don’t like that deal, but that’s the way it’s going to be. Now…" I said, as I took him by the shoulders again.
"Please, Jack. Let’s go back now. I’ll try everything. I promise."
"It’s too late now, kiddo. You’re not getting spanked for not trying the food. You’re getting spanked for being rude to your mother and for disobeying.
He whimpered, but didn’t argue or resist as I took his shoulders and turned him to face away from me. I knelt down, reached around him, and undid his pants. They were elastic waisted and not especially baggy, so I had to push them down to get them over his round, slightly chubby little bottom, exposing his boxers.
(I’m not even going to complain about a 6-year old boy wearing boxers. I’m sure you all know my opinion of that by now.)
With his pants down to his knees, I stood and moved to his left, wrapping my left arm around him from his right side, and holding him against my left leg. Then I raised my right hand and brought it smacking down against Corey’s little bottom.
I could probably have covered Corey’s entire bottom with one hand, but I didn’t want to do that. I cupped my hand a bit and brought the first smack down on his left cheek, causing a yelp. The second landed on the right cheek, and this time the yelp was wetter. The third swat came down right along his crack and he started sobbing. I wasn’t going to smack his legs, so I repeated the pattern, and he was having a good cry before I placed the sixth swat.
When I turned him around tears were flowing down his cheeks. The little kid was desperate for some love and support and was happy to wrap his arms around my neck and let me pick him up. I held him that way for a few moments, then sat him back down and helped him dress before we washed his face and our hands. Then we went back to the table.
Cathy had eaten a bit, but was mostly waiting on us.
"That didn’t take too long. Did Jack talk you into eating, sweetheart?"
"Yes, momma. He’s a good talker."
I don’t think he meant it sarcastically. Either way, he sat down - slowly and gingerly, but without complaining - and tried a bite of everything. He’d never had crinkle-cut fries before and decided they weren’t bad at all. He hated to admit it, but the chicken nuggets were good. He didn’t really care for the green beans that way, and looked up at me.
"What kind of dessert can I have, Jack?"
Cathy looked at me, but didn’t say anything.
"I said you could have dessert IF you cleaned your plate. You haven’t cleaned your plate."
"Yeah, but I don’t like these very good. If I can’t have a good dessert, I don’t wanna eat ‘em."
I had to laugh at that, and so did his mom.
"You can have whatever dessert they have that you want, kiddo."
He did clean his plate and the three of us ended up splitting a fudge-covered brownie with vanilla ice cream. Despite having a slightly sore bottom, he had a good time, and Cathy and I had a great time.
By the time dinner was over, we were able to drop him at her mom’s, and I took her back to the warehouse, just in time for the books to arrive. I got back to the store late, but the customers are pretty understanding.
I was back in Dallas two days later, and this time Cathy and I went out without Corey. I took 14 more trips to Dallas in the next 3 weeks - sometimes it was by ourselves, sometimes with Corey, and Steve made several of the trips with me also. I was never able to put my finger on it, but Cathy and I connected in ways I’d never done with anyone before. Even though she and I didn’t share as many interests as I did with other people, we became bests friends almost instantly. And, of course, when your best friends of the opposite sex, well… Things are expected. We were married on 1 March 1996.