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I Once Asked My Parents for a Spanking

This is not a defense of Adrian Peterson. The wounds on his young son are horrific. If he didn’t cross the line into abuse, there is no line.

What I see the media and left once again doing, though, is dishonestly conflating Peterson’s whipping of his son to a run-of-the-mill spanking.

Leftists are desperate to use any opportunity to come between parent and child — to exert their grotesque influence into that relationship. Naturally, they are using the Peterson example to blur the line between spankings and abuse, in the hopes that any kind of physical punishment will give the government the right to raise America’s children, and by extension create creepy, borg-like, buttinsky know-it-all Statists like themselves.

Spanking a child is good thing. That’s a fact. Abuse is not. The difference between the two is vast.

As a kid, I was spanked. Frequently. And I deserved it and I was and am better for it.

My parents used a metal spatula on my bare butt. It stung like hell, but didn’t bruise or injure — which was the whole point, and the correct way for parents to approach any kind of corporal punishment.

Psychologically, spankings were hugely beneficial in wising me up. Spankings were spared for Big Things. When I was spanked, I knew I had crossed a Big Line. Looking back, I also know that the fear and stress that came with “waiting for Dad to get home” were much worse than the actual act.

Spankings also taught me a valuable lesson about how a coward dies a thousand deaths.  

I was around 11 or 12 years-old when I found myself grounded for one thing or another. That meant I had to stay in the house. Winter or summer, not being able to run around outside was torture (still is). I grew up before the arrival of the Helicopter Parent. As long as we were home before the streetlights came on, my sister and I were allowed to run wild wherever we wanted.  It was glorious. But now I was grounded,  and after a couple of days into a week-long punishment, I had finally had enough…

I bartered with my parents… Would they agree to end the grounding now if I agreed to a spanking.

Deal.

And it was the best deal I ever made. I not only got to run around outside, I learned an invaluable lesson about facing the music, trial by fire, taking your medicine, and that cowardice is way worse than the beating. Short-term pain for long-term gain…

At the time I was pretty proud of myself. I still am. I grew up a little that day; came a little closer to being a man.

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