(short pause) In the gentle days of my childhood, in a small and cheerful town, I learned many important lessons. One such lesson came on a warm and rather still summer afternoon, when the golden sunlight danced through the lace curtains and the air was filled with the quiet hum of family life. My mother’s voice, clear and firm, called my elder brother and me into the sitting room. The room, usually so familiar and comforting, now seemed rather serious, for something was amiss. Someone had written upon Mother’s treasured coffee table, and her disappointment was plain to see.
(pause) Mother stood before us, her arms folded, her eyes searching our faces. “Who has written on my table?” she asked, her voice calm but resolute. My brother and I looked at one another, our hearts beating quickly. Neither of us spoke, for neither wished to be the one to confess. Mother’s expression grew sterner. “If neither of you will own up, I shall have to punish you both. It is only fair.” Her words hung in the air, and we knew that she meant what she said. She led us down the narrow hallway to our bedroom, her footsteps measured and sure, while ours were slow and uncertain.
(pause) My brother and I pleaded softly, hoping to change her mind, but Mother was determined. The bedroom, usually a place of rest, now felt rather solemn. She sat upon the edge of the bed and called my brother to her side. “Come here, please,” she said, her tone gentle but unwavering. My brother’s voice trembled as he replied, “Please, Mother, do not punish me!” But Mother shook her head. “It is important to be honest, and to learn from our mistakes,” she said.
(pause) With careful hands, Mother prepared my brother for his punishment. . She took his arm and guided him gently but firmly over her lap. My brother’s face was red with shame, and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. Mother raised her hand and began his punishment. She delivered twenty-five firm smacks to his bottom, each one a clear lesson. The sound of each smack echoed in the quiet room: one, two, three… all the way to twenty-five. My brother tried to be brave, but by the fifteenth smack, he was crying openly, and by the end, his sobs filled the room. When it was over, his bottom was very sore , and he stood, tears streaming down his cheeks,. Mother spoke kindly to him, “Let this be a lesson, my dear. It is always best to tell the truth at once.”
(pause) Then it was my turn. My legs felt heavy as I walked to Mother’s side, my cheeks burning with shame. She prepared me in the same way, and I too was placed over her lap. Mother gave me twenty-five smacks, each one sharp and stinging. I tried to be brave, but soon I was crying as well. The pain was real, but I knew that Mother was teaching me an important lesson about honesty and responsibility.
(pause) After the first round, Mother asked again, “Will either of you confess?” But still, neither of us spoke. So, Mother explained that, until the truth was told, the punishment would continue. She gave my brother another twenty-five smacks, and then me as well. Each time, the lesson was the same: it is wrong to hide the truth, and it is better to be honest, even when it is difficult.
(pause) The room was filled with the sound of our crying, and the lesson was a hard one. At one point, my little sister peeped in at the door, her eyes wide with surprise. Her presence made me feel even more embarrassed, but Mother reminded us that it is better to face the consequences of our actions than to let others suffer for our mistakes.
(pause) After another round of twenty-five smacks each, my brother was quite defeated, and I too felt I could bear no more. At last, my resolve broke, and through my tears, I confessed to writing on the table, though I could not remember doing it. Mother’s face softened a little, and she handed me a cloth. “Now, Peter, you must clean the table and make it right,” she said. I did so, feeling very humble indeed.
(pause) When the table was clean, Mother led me back to the bedroom for one final lesson. She gave me a last, most painful spanking of twenty-five smacks, for it is important to make amends when we have done wrong. My bottom was very sore, and I cried, but I knew that Mother loved me and wanted me to grow up to be honest and good.
(pause) When it was all over, I lay on my bed, my bottom throbbing, but my heart lighter for having told the truth. The memory of that day has stayed with me always, reminding me that honesty is the best policy, and that loving discipline, though hard to bear, helps us to become better people. And so, dear children, remember: always tell the truth, and you will find that even the hardest lessons can help you grow into kind and upright boys and girls.
