(gap: 2s) Once upon a time, in a quiet little town surrounded by green hills and hedgerows, there lived a family of cheerful children. The days were long and bright, and the air was filled with the scent of fresh grass and the gentle promise of rain. The sun shone kindly upon the red-brick houses, and every corner of the town seemed to hold a secret adventure.
(short pause) The children—my brothers, my sisters, and I—were always busy with wholesome games. We would run along the cobbled lanes, our shoes tapping merrily, and our laughter would ring out like the chime of a bell. At home, we would gather in the sitting room, reading comics, inventing new games, and sharing secrets. There was a wonderful feeling of safety and love in our home, as if a warm blanket was wrapped around us all.
(pause) But, as in all good stories, there were times when we made mistakes. Sometimes, curiosity would get the better of us, or we would be tempted to do something we knew was wrong, such as taking a sweet without asking or playing a trick that was not kind. Our mother was gentle and loving, but she believed that children must learn right from wrong. She knew that discipline, given with care, would help us grow into good and honest people.
(short pause) When one of us did something naughty, Mother would call us to her. Her voice was calm and steady, never cross or loud. She would sit down and look at us with kind but serious eyes. We knew at once that we had done wrong, and our hearts would beat quickly as we waited for her to speak.
(pause) Mother would explain, in a gentle voice, what we had done and why it was wrong. There was no shouting, only a quiet certainty that we must learn our lesson. Then, she would say, “You must be punished, so that you remember to do better next time.” We would nod, understanding that this was fair and just.
(short pause) If the mischief was small, such as forgetting to tidy our room or being rude, Mother would give us six firm smacks with her hand upon our bottom. She would ask us to bend over her knee, and then, with a steady hand, she would deliver each smack—one, two, three, four, five, six. Each one stung, but it was never cruel. We would try to be brave, but sometimes a tear would slip down our cheek. Mother would always remind us, “I do this because I love you, and I want you to grow up to be good.”
(pause) If the mischief was more serious, such as telling a lie or taking something that did not belong to us, Mother would use the clothes brush. She would say, “This is a very serious matter, and you must remember never to do it again.” Then, she would give twelve sound smacks with the brush—six on each side. The brush was hard and the smacks were sharp, and by the end, our bottoms would be very sore indeed. We would cry, but we knew that we deserved it, and that Mother was teaching us an important lesson.
(short pause) After the punishment, Mother would always hold us close. She would stroke our hair and say, “You are forgiven now. I know you will try to do better.” We would feel comforted and safe, and the pain would soon fade, leaving only the memory of the lesson learned.
(pause) Sometimes, if we felt especially sorry for what we had done, we would say, “Mother, I am truly sorry. Please give me my punishment so I may be good again.” Mother would nod, and give us our smacks, and afterwards, we would feel lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted from our hearts.
(short pause) There were times, too, when we saw other children being naughty. Once, two boys from the village tried to take sweets from the shop without paying. The kind shopkeeper caught them and brought them to their mothers. Each boy received twelve hard smacks with the slipper, and their mothers explained, “Stealing is very wrong, and you must never do it again.” The boys cried, but afterwards, they said thank you, and promised to be honest from then on.
(pause) At school, the matron and the teachers were also very firm. If a boy was rude or disobedient, he would be taken to the matron’s room. There, he would receive six smacks with the hairbrush, and sometimes, if the matter was very serious, twelve. The boys would be very sorry, but they knew that the rules were fair, and that everyone must obey them for the good of all.
(short pause) After a spanking, we would go to our rooms and think about what we had done. Our bottoms would be sore, and we would rub them gently, but we would also feel a sense of relief, knowing that we had been forgiven. We would resolve to be better, kinder, and more honest in the future.
(pause) These lessons, though sometimes painful, helped us to grow. We learned that love and discipline go hand in hand, and that a mother’s firm hand is a sign of her care. We learned to be truthful, to be kind, and to respect others. And we knew that, no matter what, we were always loved.
