He stuck his
tongue out at her and she said “ewww, put tongue away.” Then she said mom “Unk stick tongue out.” And
she said TeeTee tell Unk be nice me.”
It was funny. And
cute.
And it triggered a memory.
When I was 9 or 10, maybe even younger. We were at my aunt’s
house. All of us kids were playing outside.
There were five or six of us. The oldest, we’ll call her Patsy. She stuck her tongue out at an old man in the
yard next door.
The old man promptly went to the front door and told my aunt
that the “kids” were sticking their tongue out at him.
We all got called inside. We all got yelled at. We all got asked who did it. Everyone denied it. Then Patsy said it was me.
My mom promptly went to the kitchen to get her weapon of
choice. A metal spatula. The one with the holes in it.
I was crying and pleading promising my mom that it wasn’t me. Agreeing I did know better. But Patsy was older. “Why would she lie.”
My mom came back with the spatula and told me to pull my
pants down because “you know better than that.”
I was crying. And pleading. And everyone was looking at me.
My aunt. My uncle. Patsy. Patsy’s mom. Patsy’s teenage brother. I told my mom I
didn’t want to pull my pants down in front of them.
She told me to go in the living room. So I did.
I started to pull down my pants and Patsy’s mom came and sat
on the couch. Then her son. Then my aunt.
I was humiliated. Standing there in my underwear while my
mom spanked me.
I don’t know how many times she hit me. I stopped counting
years before this.
This memory has stuck around since that weekend. Living rent
free in my head. Hopefully now it can
crawl back into whatever hole it came out of and never appear again.
