I am reposting this as part of the Deja Vu Blogfest!
One of the last times my Dad applied a switch to my rear end with any degree of force happened after what my brother and I later called the lemon cookie catastrophe. My father was addicted to lemon frosting-filled cookies, and every other week my mother would bring home a package of the sweet treats with the groceries, which would go into the metal bread box on the counter. The catastrophe began with the fact that both Jay and I loved cookies and tended to sneak them when no one was looking. As a result, the number of lemon cookies in the bag would diminish rapidly in just a few days, much to my father’s displeasure.
“Who ate the lemon cookies?” Dad would ask in exasperation each time.
“Noelle did,” Jay would answer.
“Jay did,” I would reply.
Finally, Dad’s patience wore out. Tired of never knowing who was to be punished for eating his cookies, he found a solution. “The next time I find that anyone has been eating my cookies, you will both be switched.”
Sure enough, the following week he went to grab a cookie after dinner and found the bag had only one. “That’s it,” he roared and asked Jay and me who ate his cookies.
“I didn’t, I swear,” I vowed.
“I didn’t eat your cookies this time,” answered Jay tearfully, knowing what was coming.
Nevertheless, Dad cut a green switch from the back yard forsythia, returned to the kitchen and gave both Jay and me a thorough licking, energized by the fact that he was tired of our lying.
I was sitting on the back steps, crying, when Mom came in from the drying area with a pile of clothes in her arms. I followed her into the kitchen, wailing about being punished for something I didn’t do. “What’s going on here, John?” Mom asked.
“I’m tired of those kids lying about eating the lemon cookies,” he answered, “so this time they both got switched.”
“Oh dear,” Mom sighed. “I forgot to tell you that the bridge club was here this afternoon and I served them the lemon cookies.”
I remember wailing even louder about the unfairness of it all and not surprisingly, I was ordered to my room. I left, but not before I heard Dad say, “Well, shit.”
Many years later, Dad said to me, “Life is inherently unfair.” I couldn’t help myself. I reminded him of the lemon cookies.
Hahaha! That was unfair, but not entirely unfair. You guys paid for the previous ‘sins’. Probably you could have shared the remaining cookie, that way you wouldn’t have had to wail, and complain of unfair switching!
I agree with you – it was a punishment for past sins. Glad you got a chuckle from this!
It was great. Reminded me how I could lick sugar but deny vehemently, even when I was caught with sugar particles gleaming on my lips. Hehe! I would get thorough beatings for dishonesty.
This is a great lesson!
Luckily punishment came from a father.
My mother was no good at punishment – she broke a yardstick on my brother’s rear once and we all laughed.
I am fond of this kind of stories because exactly this “clumsiness” : ))) shows so much love. And how brave we are as kids.
Hehe! Yeah
Yeah, I chuckled too!
Oh that’s funny! I think I can relate to pretty much every aspect of that story – the stealing the cookies, having the cookies stolen, being punished unfairly and doing the unfair punishing. I bet you can’t eat lemon cookies without laughing now though that probably took awhile!
I love lemon anything – somehow that switching didn’t dampen my enthusiasm! Thanks for stopping by!
LOL!!! Classic! Thanks for re-sharing it today! 🙂
Glad you liked it! Would like to visit your blog – did you re-post today?
Very funny!
Why didn’t your Dad simply hide the lemon cookies? Or buy two bags — one for him and one to share?
He was clearly setting you up to fail. 😉
Happy Deja Vu!
Mom had control of the cookie purchasing and also his waistline, so she would only buy one bag. Did you participate in the blog hop? Can I visit your blog?
Ha ha ha ha! Man, that’s a classic. Parenting sure is hard 🙂
Parenting my brother and me WAS hard – my brother was a hellion and I was a smart mouth!
Well, you guys drove him to it. 🙂 Ok, maybe not, but yes, life is not fair. And look at you today, you survived just fine. Now … don’t touch those cookies. 🙂 Poor Dad, he must’ve felt terrible.
WE think we drove him nuts, Sylvia. I think he felt vindicated but I never asked him!
this is hilarious! and now I really want lemon cookies 🙂
Me, too. Never impacted my love of lemon anythng!
Good lesson: life can be unfair. 😀 And, boy… the thought of a lemon cookie right about now is very appealing – as was your story. Well done.
Perfect moral for the story, Kate. And my writing can’t compare to your story telling…
Now you are being TOO kind. But I love you for it. Thank you. <3
Lol! Loved this! Especially loved your father’s response: “Well, shit.”!!! hahahaha. Oh how I remember the switch! Ours came off the lilac bush. We didn’t get it often but when we did, we deserved it. Great repost for today. Happy Deja Vu!
michele at Angels Bark
Hey Michele, how comforting to know that someone else belonging to the I got switched club. Like you, it wasn’t often but it hurt! I discovered one friend got switched – he had to go out can cut the switch!
Yikes! That would be torture to have to cut you’re own switch! I always ran and my mom would say “you have to come back sometime”… I thought giving her time to cool off might help. Ha!
Love the lemon taste! 😀
That’s classic. And, of course, you had to remind him years later. I would have trotted that one out every time I got in trouble.
Ah, one thing you never did with my Dad was remind him when he was wrong. My kids have NO hesitation reminding me, though!
Even though you had told fibs in the past it must still have felt unfair to be punished the time you didn’t do it! But glad it didn’t spoil your love of anything lemon – one of my fave flavours in the world 🙂 Catching up on DejaVu posts x
Thanks for stopping by – hope you enjoyed my tale! My brother and I still talk about this from time to time. And of course now we can smile!
Really funny story, Noelle. 😀 Although I know it wasn’t funny for you and your brother at the time. 🙂 — Suzanne
Well, time does heal – my brother and I have had a great laugh about this recently!