In our garden, we were strictly forbidden to play baseball, for the windows of the house were made of delicate leaded glass, arranged in diamond patterns. The house, built in 1850, was fragile and precious.
Father had decreed that gentle wiffle ball was permitted only by the large bushes along the fence, and under no circumstances was the game to be played near the house. This was a reasonable rule, but difficult for us to follow, as our skills were not yet refined.
One summer afternoon, while Nanny sat reading in her lawn chair, Jeff and I, dressed in our summer clothes, played wiffle ball near the bushes. Nanny watched us closely, repeatedly warning us to move back, for we were edging dangerously close to the house.
Each time, we would move back, but soon we would drift towards the house again. Nanny’s voice rang out, “If you strike the house, you shall be punished. Do you understand? Your father forbade it. Now, move over there or put the game away.”
Jeff was pitching, and I was at bat. I swung and missed. How could I miss? I was usually quite good. Strike two! I could not believe it. I stepped away from the bushes, just a little, to allow a full swing, and this time, I struck the ball with a sharp crack.
The ball soared past Nanny and crashed through one of the vestibule windows, shattering the lead and glass. In an instant, Nanny leapt from her chair, her book tumbling to the ground. “Oh, my heavens! Look what has happened!” Suzanne, our maid, had been vacuuming in the front hall when the ball flew past her and landed on the carpet, coming to a halt.
The crash summoned my mother, the butler, and the cook. All came to see the disaster. Jeff turned pale as a ghost. I felt a strange mixture of fear and guilt, for I knew punishment was inevitable. I even offered to pay for the damage with my savings, but the adults only glared at me.
My mother sent me to my room. I sulked there, thinking it was unfair. It had been an accident, and everyone was overreacting. But soon, Mother entered.
“I am sorry your father is not here to deal with you. I must take his place. You know he said you would be punished if you struck the house. You have done more than that, Gigi. We must now call a lead glass expert to repair the window. Do you understand?” I nodded, subdued.
“I must whip you, Gigi.” “Mother, what does ‘whip’ mean?” “It means I must spank you with something other than my hand. This must hurt, for you have disobeyed, despite Nanny’s repeated warnings.
“I have just spanked Jeff in the library with my hand. He received six firm smacks on his bare bottom, and he is now very sore. But you, Gigi, are more to blame. You could have changed the game, but you did not.”
“Please, Mother, it was an accident. I would never have broken the window on purpose. I am truly sorry. I will pay for it.”
My pleas made no difference. Mother placed pillows at the foot of the bed and positioned me over them. She placed her hands on my hips, adjusting me precisely as she wished.
I began to cry, knowing she was serious. I clutched my quilt and pulled it around my face to muffle my cries. I wondered what was taking her so long.
I peeked and saw her searching through my dresser. “Where is Nanny’s spanking stick, Gigi?” “I do not know.” Relief washed over me—perhaps she would not find it! My bottom was still raised, and I tensed in anticipation.
“Stay here, young lady. Do not move—I shall return.” She left, and I waited, uncertain how long she was gone. When she returned, she held a small, wide leather strap, the kind we used to secure suitcases when travelling.
Without another word, mother began to strap me. It hurt so much that I just started screaming into the quilt that I had scrunched up around my face.
Part of it was rage, for I was really angry at her for doing this to me. Part of it was pain, and the pain part was winning rapidly. All of a sudden she stopped. She pulled me from the bed and wiped my nose with a handkerchief.
I was a mess. I kept rubbing my sore bottom and crying. Then mother took me over her knees and told me that she was very angry. She said that I had been fresh and defiant recently and she was going to see to it that this whole business stopped.
I could hardly believe it but she started to spank me with her hand, again and again, right where the strap had been. When she was finished, and I was a sobbing heap, Mother put me face down on the bed and left me there for a few minutes.
“Nanny is very angry but she won’t spank you, because I have already done so. Daddy will be extremely upset when he learns of this, so I can’t promise you refuge from his anger, but I think we can put this behind us now.”
I certainly knew what was on my behind, that’s for sure!
