In all of my years of growing up, my dad was my dad but also my best friend. He was a very strict disciplinarian, and I always knew that when he made a rule, or gave me an order, there was no point in arguing; it would just make matters worse and I would have to suffer the consequences. But on the other hand, he has a great sense of humor, and I was never afraid to talk to him about anything.
One day, when I was about seven, I was playing on the front porch with our servant's children. We had a set of rattan furniture and we were playing house with my dolls. We turned the chairs over and decided to make one of them a fireplace, but we had no matches. I knew I couldn't ask dad for matches so I ran over to our neighbor's house and told him that my dad would like to borrow a book of matches. So he obliged and I said "Thank You."
Mom and Dad were entertaining guests in the living room. There was a slight breeze and the sheer curtains were blowing out the open window. I had the celluloid dolls sitting around the makeshift fireplace when I lit the paper and to my horror the dolls, the furniture, and the curtains were ablaze. Dad rushed out of the house, and with the help of the servants and the guests, put out the fire. He sternly told me to go to my room.
After the guests left, he asked me where I got the matches. I told him the truth. He said, "I'm sure you've learned your lesson, but you have broken a very serious rule. I have told you to never, never play with matches so I have no choice but to spank you. I want you to know this will hurt me more than it hurts you." After the spanking, he took me with him to our neighbors house and told him if he ever wanted to borrow anything, he would ask himself.
Dear old dad, I learned so much from him. And for the record, I'm quite sure that spanking hurt me much more than it hurt him!
Wanda Patrick, Roy, UT