My own story began when I was sent into foster care, and it was there that I met Auntie Bethie and Uncle Sebastian, who would become the guiding stars of my young life.
(pause) The first time Auntie Bethie ever disciplined me was over something quite small, but to me, it felt enormous. We were on my very first family holiday by the seaside, the air filled with the scent of salt and the distant cries of gulls. I remember the little shop on the promenade, its windows brimming with trinkets and treasures. My eyes fell upon a bright, cheerful keyring shaped like a red sailing boat. I had spent all my pocket money on sweets and comics, but I wanted that keyring so very much. So, with a heart pounding in my chest, I slipped it into my pocket when no one was looking.
(pause) That evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the sky with pink and gold, we returned to our holiday flat. Auntie Bethie was unpacking our things when she found the keyring tucked away in my coat. She looked at me, her eyes gentle but sad, and called me quietly into my little bedroom. The room was cosy, with a patchwork quilt on the bed and the faint sound of the sea through the open window. She sat beside me, her presence calm and reassuring, and took my hand in hers.
(short pause) “Laura, my dear,” she said softly, “can you tell me where this keyring came from?” I looked down at my shoes, my cheeks burning with shame. “I took it from the shop,” I whispered. Auntie Bethie squeezed my hand gently. “And why did you take it, darling?” I hesitated, then replied, “I wanted it, but I didn’t have any money left.” She nodded, her voice never rising. “Have you ever taken something that wasn’t yours before?” I nodded, unable to meet her eyes. I knew she must have read it in my records, but she wanted me to say it myself.
(pause) Auntie Bethie’s voice was as soft as a feather. “Tomorrow, we shall go back to the shop together, and you will return the keyring and say you are sorry. The people who run that little shop work very hard, Laura. They need every penny to buy food and pay their bills. When you take something that isn’t yours, it isn’t just naughty—it is unkind, because it makes life harder for others.” Her words, so gentle and true, made my heart ache. I felt a lump rise in my throat, and tears pricked at my eyes.
(pause) “I’m so sorry, Auntie Bethie,” I managed to say, my voice trembling. She put her arm around my shoulders and held me close. “I know you are, my love. But being sorry is only the first step. What do you think we should do to make things right?” I shook my head, feeling lost. I had never been taught how to put things right before.
(short pause) “Well,” she said, “when we return the keyring, we help the shopkeeper. But there is something else, too. When someone breaks a rule, there must be a consequence—not just to teach them, but to show others that we are truly sorry and wish to do better. Do you understand, Laura?” I nodded, wiping my eyes. “Yes, Auntie Bethie.”
(pause) She looked at me with such kindness that I felt safe, even though I was afraid. “Do you think you deserve a punishment?” she asked gently. I nodded again, my voice barely a whisper. “Yes.” She helped me to my feet and led me to the bed, sitting down and guiding me across her lap. I had never been spanked before, but I knew, somehow, that this was not done in anger, but in love.
(short pause) Auntie Bethie’s hand was firm but not cruel. Each smack stung, but it was the sting of learning, not of anger. I lay still, my heart full of regret, and let the tears fall. She counted softly as she went, her voice gentle and steady. “One, two, three…” By the time she reached ten, I was sobbing, not just from the pain, but from the weight of my guilt and the relief of being forgiven.
(pause) When it was over, Auntie Bethie gathered me into her arms and rocked me gently, just as a mother might comfort a frightened child. “There now, Laura,” she murmured, “it is all over. You have been brave and honest, and I am proud of you. Tomorrow is a new day, and you will do better, I know.” I clung to her, feeling safe and loved, the storm of my emotions slowly quieting.
(pause) The next morning, with the sun shining and the world washed clean, we walked together to the little shop. My heart thudded as I handed the keyring back to the shopkeeper and whispered my apology. She smiled kindly and patted my head, and I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders. I had made a mistake, but I had also made it right.
(short pause) Auntie Bethie’s discipline was never harsh or unkind. She taught me, with patience and love, that mistakes could be mended and that true goodness came from trying to do better each day. Even as I grew older, I remembered those lessons, and I am grateful for them still. Auntie Bethie was a gentle and loving guide, and her discipline was a gift that helped me grow into the person I am today. (long pause)
