Capital Punishment ...

D-squared decided to come along for this morning's pick up basketball game, and we rode in his Camaro. He a few things in the seat, and a belt on the floor. I picked it up to put it in the back seat.

He told me he couldn't wear it anymore, and that immediately made me think about forgetting my belt at home one ominous morning before a day of middle school.

I don't know if my father's hands were weary from work that day, because he didn't decide to whoop me unmercifully when he got home. He used a tactic I call capital punishment.

"I want you to sit here, and write 'I will not forget my belt for school' 500 times," he'd say.

I'd look at him like he were crazy. He'd raise his hand to pimp/back slap me, and I'd grab the pen and start writing.

1. I will not forget my belt for school.
2. I will not forget my belt for school.
3. I will not forget my belt for school.
4. I will not forget my belt for school.
5. I will not forget my belt for school.
6. I will not forget my belt for school.
7. I will not forget my belt for school.
8. I will not forget my belt for school.

That just gave me chills typing it eight times (I'm lying, I copy/pasted). But you get my point. That was worse than any 'tough love' I ever received from my mother, stepmother or father. Do you know how monotonous writing that 500 times can get?

Honestly, I'd rather have the whoopin, every day of the week. Tactics like this give ample reasoning as to why I don't need to lay hands on my children if I have any. You can take away toys, television, video games. You can make kids stand in the corner for an hour. There's so much more than the two minutes of 'tough love.'

But I'll tell you this much, I don't think I've ever misspelled ( I don't really get how people misspell the aforementioned word, misspell) any of those words since, and it's certainly a rare occurrence for me to forget my belt.