It was obvious how little I’d prepared when I sat down to take it and began drawing cartoons in the margin. Mom walked by me and cleared her throat a few times so I pretended I was working, but she knew I wasn’t. After an hour and a half of stalling, I finally handed in a halfway done math test. I could only do about half of the problems.

“Taylor,” Mom raised an eyebrow, “Taylor, you’ve skipped the entire last page.”

I nodded and pushed the kitchen chair in, “I know. I couldn’t figure them out.”

She frowned, “You didn’t try. I don’t even see any work for those problems.”

“I know, Mom…” I groaned, “Because I didn’t even know where to begin. You asked for the root and I don’t even know what a root is.”

She shook her head in frustration and told me to go finish the rest of my school work for the day while she looked it over. To make a long story short, she told Dad when he returned home from dinner that I had completely blown off my test and had come out of it with a 47. Ouch. It was my worst math grade yet. I hadn’t even gotten half of the problems right.

Isaac who was sitting at the table, and always a good student, smirked and shook his head. I glared at him.

Dad looked up at me with concerned eyes, “Did you study?”

“Yes,” I lied, “I’m just not good at math. I’m just not.”

He sighed and shook his head at me, “Well then you can spend all next week working on math. No lunch hour for you I guess.”

I groaned.

“And you can stay in tonight for the bad grade.”

“Dad!”

“That is what happens to kids that go to public school!” He explained, “They get bad grades, and it’s not as simple as, alright we’ll focus more on that. If you’re not going to work for good grades, then you can stay in for the night.”

I sighed and flopped down at the table in the same spot I had taken the horrible math test.

“It’s a beautiful June night…” I whined, “And this is my first weekend home…and we were supposed to be going to Laser Quest with the CHURCH group…” I looked up to see if the word church would help my case anymore.

“You’re in for the night,” he said in a tone that meant there was no arguing.

So I didn’t argue. In fact, I didn’t argue with Dad for the rest of the night. That doesn’t mean I didn’t sulk though. I hardly spoke a word at dinner and moped around the house all evening refusing to play any board games with the girls or help Mom make cookies. I was mourning the death of my Friday.

Zac finally dragged me to the living room where he forced me to play him in Mario Kart. One round turned into two rounds, and after two hours, the competition was high. I usually beat Zac, but as he was growing up his video game skills were improving too and I found myself losing to him in consecutive races. Avery’s jeering didn’t help.

“Uh oh…Taylor fell off the side…he’s being pulled up by a man in a cloud with a fishing pole….he’s gonna be way behind now.”

I didn’t appreciate the narration to say the least.

“Damnit!” I gasped, throwing down the controller and folding my arms at my chest as Zac beat me for the third consecutive time.

I waited for Zac to gloat, but he didn’t. He looked up nervously at the doorway. There stood dad with his arms folded at his chest, only they weren’t folded in defeat like me but in anger.

“Sorry…” I uttered nervously.

Dad stomped over to me and stood right in front of me, bending down and glaring into my eyes, “You watch it. Watch the mouth.” He said in his most strict tone.

I nodded obediently.

Unfortunately, he sent me to bed not only for my language, but because it was almost midnight.

I should have been more careful over the weekend considering that I knew how angry Dad was at me. But I didn’t. I woke up in the morning, fought with Jessica at the breakfast table because she ate the rest of the Cocoa Crispies, and groaned when Mom asked me to the dishes when everyone was done. I did them, of course. It’s not that I really mind doing the dishes. That’s not the issue. The reason I hate doing chores is because they mess with my schedule. I wake up in the morning and I had a schedule of when I’m going to do things and how I’m going to do them. Then for Mom to give me some lousy chore at last minute…well it completely messes with my intended routine.

Finally, after 30 minutes of dirty dishes, I washed my hands and looked for Mom to tell her I was meeting Charlotte.

Charlotte…my girlfriend. Well, sorta. I like to call Charlotte my girlfriend, because I’ve never had a girlfriend before, but the truth is she’s just a girl I like…a real lot. I like her enough to kiss her too, and even…well even do more if she’d let me. She’s wonderful. She’s nice and funny and amazing and…she’s really quite pretty too. She doesn’t go to church though, which scare Mom and Dad. I met her through a concert we did a year ago before we signed for the record.

“Mom!” I hollered through the house, walking into the living room and peering at the few fans standing out by the street. Our single had only come out a few months ago and there seemed to always be girls on our yard! I was careful not to let them see me.

“Mom! Where are you! I’m gonna go ride my bike to Charlotte’s house!” I yelled through the house, “It’s only on 84th street okay?”

I bit my lip as I examined the fans. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea…but I had promised Charlotte I’d be over…I checked my watch. I was twenty minutes late!

I turned and began walking around the house looking for Mom. “Mom!!!”

She finally came in from the garage with an armful of pool toys and set them down on the couch, “Taylor, I don’t want you screaming through the entire house.”

I rolled my eyes while she wasn’t looking, “I’m going to Charlottes okay?”

Mom was distracted as she glanced at the fans outside, “Oh my word…they’re back again. Those are the same girls as yesterday…”

“Okay, well I’m going to Charlottes okay…?”

She began to hastily close the blinds, shaking her head in distress.

“Mom!”

“Don’t yell at me,” she said, finally making eye contact with me. “What are you trying to tell me?” I sighed out of frustration. Mom’s just don’t get it sometimes. “I’m going to Charlottes, okay?”

“Is Isaac going to drive you…?”

“Ike’s out with Zac, remember? They went to Smoothie King awhile ago?”

She nodded distractedly. I tried to remind myself she had excuses. She was pregnant, after all. We had just found out a month before. As I began to slip towards the front door she looked up though.

“Wait! How are you getting there?”

“I’m biking.”

She laughed a bit to herself, “Oh, no you’re not.”

“Mom!” I whined, “Mom….please. I’m already late.”

“I would be out of my mind to let my 14 year old son ride his bike with those girls out there!”

“They’re just girls…” I muttered, “I could take them…”

She shook her head and began to sort through the halfway blown up rafts in her hands, “I’m not even going to let you get yourself into that situation.”

Sometimes I hated those fans.

“Mom…please…” I resorted to begging with sad, miserable eyes, “Please Mom! I stayed in all last night and…can you drive me?”

She shook her head, “I don’t even want you going to Charlottes house. Is her mother home? You know your father and I don’t approve of you being in a girls house when her parents aren’t home, and if you think you’re going to get away with it…I hope you’re keeping your head with her.”

I shook my head in disbelief. This was ridiculous. All I wanted was to ride my bike to a girl’s house and here I was getting the third degree.

“I’m taking Avery and Mackenzie to the town pool if you want to come,” she offered.

Oh really?! I thought sarcastically in my mind. That would be wonderful, Mom! There is no other way I’d want to spend my Saturday morning than babysitting my two younger siblings in a crowded, dirty pool.

“Yeah right…” I muttered, which to me seemed much more appropriate but Mom didn’t seem to agree. She gave me that warning look that Mom’s always give their kids so they don’t have to actually scold them.

I thought for a moment. I’d tried begging, reasoning, giving her pathetic sad eyes, and being vague. If I figured right, I had three strategies left. I started with the less risky one.

“You let Ike and Zac walk around town by themselves where there could be fans anywhere,” I reasoned, “They’re out there in the public and I just want to stick around the neighborhood.”

She looked carefully over a raft, searching for leaks.

“You always let Ike do whatever he wants cause he’s the oldest…and Zac cause he’s the ba-”

Mom actually laughed, “You’ve been watching too many sitcoms where the middle child is supposedly traumatized because of being in the middle. I have no pity for you Taylor. We treat you all the same, and you know it.”

I sighed. Okay, method two.

“Mom…please. I haven’t seen Charlotte in a week. If you let me go I will baby sit tomorrow night for you. You’ve been telling Dad you want to go to the new Chili’s that just moved in by the mall, haven’t you?”

But not even good food could budge my mother. She ignored me completely. She left me no other option.

“Well, Mom…since you’re going to just stand there and ignore me…” I knew just how testy I was becoming but I didn’t hold back, “I’m going to make this decision on my own. I am going.”

“Nope,” she said simply as she looked up from her concentration on the pool toys, “And now for your stubbornness you can stay in the entire night.”

I actually stomped my foot like a toddler. WHAT! I was shocked! Absolutely shocked! I had been doing so well! I had gotten away with all my manipulating and all my whining with nothing more than a warning look, and now I was grounded just like that!? It couldn’t be possible.

“I hate you!” I screamed at her, shocked by my own words. But they were tumbling out and I couldn’t help them, “I just want to have a normal life and see my friends and see my girlfriend and it’s not my fault that I can’t do that! That’s not my fault!”

She dropped the items in her hand and walked over to me with loud, wide steps. She pointed her finger accusingly at me as she began to yell.

“Whose fault is it then, Taylor?! MINE!? It’s no ones FAULT, its just the situation! And the situation doesn’t make it right for you to go against what I say! Didn’t we have a conversation about you acting like you don’t need my permission to do things…didn’t we just discuss that while we were on the road? I recall you being spanked for it and yet you still haven’t seemed to learn!”

I knew where this was going. I was NOT going to get another spanking. I was the victim! I was the one suffering from this! I shook my head in fury.

“I don’t agree with you!” I yelled back at her.

“Tough luck!”

There was an eerily silence in the air as we stood there glaring at each other. Finally, I broke it by grabbing my jacket from the arm of the couch and storming outside.

I heard the door whip open behind me as I walked in defiance across the front yard towards the garage to get my bike. I ignored the screaming girls and flashing cameras.

Mom’s steps were loud on the front steps as I grabbed my bike from the garage, pulled my jacket over my shoulders in case of rain since the sky was grey, and got onto my bike.

“Taylor!” She screamed from the front steps, apparently ignoring the girls too. I shot her the nastiest look I could generate and began peddling to the end of the driveway.

“Taylor, listen to me,” she spoke calmly. It was probably hard to do, but my parents know composure always seems to work for us best, “Taylor…if you turn around right now you will be in far less trouble than you will be in if you leave. If you leave, I will call your father from work and HE will spank you.”

My eyes darted towards the girls at the end of the driveway who paused their screaming to listen to my mother. They all looked shocked. Here they were watching their new favorite teen idol be told by his mother he was going to be spanked. My face went pink.

I was furious at her! I hated her even more at that moment! She completely humiliated me in front of the fans, and that was something I thought I could never forgive my Mom for.

Without a single look back at Mom or another glance at the fans, I began to peddle fast towards Charlotte’s house.

I cried as I peddled which made me feel even more humiliated. It felt refreshing in one sense, biking quickly down the side of the road as the cool air ran through my hair and dried my tears within seconds. But at the same time I felt pathetic. I was 14 years old, for crying out loud. I was too old for tantrums like this, I was too old for crying, and I was certainly too old for spankings.

Charlotte greeted me at the door happily and explained to me her parents were in the kitchen but I was welcome to come into the TV room with just her. I knew what that meant. I pretended that my hands weren’t fidgeting and my eyes weren’t darting around as we slowly walked into the TV room in the back of the house. She closed the door behind us.

I never planned to kiss her right away. I was planning on coming over, maybe popping a bag of popcorn, and watching a movie with her. Then, maybe after a bit, I would lean in. But the intensity of my emotions was controlling my actions and logic was completely gone. As soon as she whisked the door closed, I couldn’t help but lean into her and press my lips to her. I began to release all the tension in my body with that one long kiss. It wasn’t long before we were tangled up on the couch in a serious make out session. My hands must have searched ever part of her body over her clothing, and they were working on exploring underneath. The minutes felt like seconds as we forged on deeper and deeper into our most intense kissing yet.

Although I should have expected it, I didn’t. So when the door was thrown up by my seething father, I yelped in fear. I pulled my face away from Charlotte and yanked my hand out from under her shirt. My hand flew to my lips where I instinctively wiped the kiss from my face.

“Jordan Taylor Hanson!” he exclaimed from the doorway.

“Yes sir…” I knew I was a goner by the tension in his body. I could sense it.

“Get in the car right now,” he said through gritted teeth.

I nodded, looking apologetically to Charlotte, and getting up quickly. Without a word, I sheepishly slipped by my father and Charlottes Dad, who didn’t really look angry at all. I hurried out to the car and shuttered in the front seat. After about five minutes, Dad joined me and started the car up.

I waited for him to lecture. I waited for him to yell. But he didn’t. He didn’t turn on the radio unfortunately, so the silence burned my ears. He just drove the ten or so blocks back home. I turned around to see my bike was already in the back of the van.

When we pulled up at the driveway, the girls were still there. They were incredibly stubborn. I wanted to cry right then and there. I didn’t see how I could possibly will myself to get out of the car and take the walk of shame following my Dad.

He got out of the car and stood there looking at me, “Let’s go!” he said with a slam of his door.

I swallowed and took my time undoing my seat belt and getting out. I tried to self talk myself into feeling calm, but I could swear my entire body was shaking, literally shaking, as I followed him along the path to the front door.

It was silent except for the jingling of his keys, the quickness of my breathing, and sudden cry of a fan, “I love you Taylor!”

I almost smiled. As much as I hated them, and as annoyed as I was, somehow it made me feel a tiny bit better. I couldn’t figure out why though as I smiled a bit in her direction. I followed Dad into the house and then he slammed the door. It haunted me to know they were picturing everything…they knew exactly what was happening because of my mom’s comment earlier.

I noticed the hairbrush sitting on the coffee table and cringed. It helped me come to my senses though because I found I could easily transfer for all my anger towards the fans, myself, and my parents into the hairbrush. I glared at it in fury.

Dad picked it up and sat down on the couch. I frantically looked around for my family to estimate just how embarrassing this would be, and was devastated when I spotted them all helping with dinner in the kitchen. They were so close they could hear and even partly see the entire thing. Well, all except for Mackie who was probably taking a nap.

“Come here,” he instructed. I obeyed immediately. I shrunk as he reached out for my shorts and undid them, letting them fall to my ankles. I glanced up at the big glass windows that looked outside and was just thankful the blinds were completely closed.

“Let’s go. You know the drill,” Dad said very orderly.

I bit my lip and tried to be a man as I bent myself over his knee and allowed him to position me so he could spank me best. It was so hard to be a man when I felt like a little boy though…and within moments I felt myself trembling through tears. I waited for the first spank, but he spoke instead.

“I’m not even going to lecture you. You know what you did. You know better. You know the expected behavior, and you were aware of the consequence when you disrespected Mom and when you rode off. You were warned and you still disobeyed. This spanking shouldn’t come as a shock,” he rationalized.

And it didn’t. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into, and at the time it had seemed worth it. I wished more than anything I had just calmed myself down earlier with Mom. Dad made it seem so simple to behave…and yet I couldn’t explain why it wasn’t.

There was a long, excruciating pause because the brush struck my exposed, tender bottom. I yelped in surprise as he came down on me hard. The tears began to burn in my eyes as much as the brush burned on my backside. I gripped onto my fathers legs and moaned as the brush struck me over and over- hurting more each time. He must have spanked me almost 50 times. I was in shock when he didn’t stop after each group of 10. After 20 I thought he was probably and done, and surely after 30.

“Please…please stop….Dad…owww….Dad…it kills….I’m sorry…” I babbled my regular pathetic spanking dialogue.

When he got to 40 and kept spanking me, harder each time, I sobbed miserably without suppressing anything. By then I was convinced it would never end. He would spank me until I was dead, I thought wretchedly.

Finally, he pulled me up so I was standing and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“We’re going to eat dinner, and then I’m going to finish your punishment afterwards.”

The words stung more than the entire spanking. I struggled, desperately, searching for an escape. I searched for a time machine, a chance to go back and change this. And yet I knew I had caused this all on my own. I broke down in tears- crying just as hard as I was during the actual spanking. I must have looked pathetic…standing there crying like a baby with a red face and even redder bottom hanging out. But I didn’t care. I didn’t know how I was going to get through dinner.

“Get yourself together to dinner. I want you to eat,” Dad commanded, “And I want you to prepare a good apology to Mom.”

Then without another word, or even a comforting hug, he stepped away from me and walked into the kitchen- leaving the horrible brush on the couch. I wanted to take it and whip it across the room, and yet I searched for the anger to do it and I couldn’t find it. I was too ashamed, too consumed my own regret to feel angry at anyone- never mind a silly old hair brush. I guess that was a good thing- for my sake at least. I don’t know what dad would have done if I had thrown a temper tantrum then.

I awkwardly pulled the back of my boxers up and yanked my shorts back onto my waist. The fabric rubbed uncomfortably against my injured backside. I carefully shuffled to the bathroom to take a moment to myself before I had to…face them.

In the bathroom I avoided myself in the mirror completely. I couldn’t bare anymore shame. I simply couldn’t look at myself and still manage to make it out to dinner at the same time. I splashed cool water on my face and blew my nose before I felt I could present myself to my family. Before I left the room, I briefly phrased some lines to say to Mom not because they were insincere and empty, but because I didn’t know if I would be able to think properly with the eyes of all my siblings burning my skin.

“I disregarded the lesson you taught me on tour and completely disrespected you again”, “I’ve been trying so hard to be obedient, but it’s hard for me sometimes”, and “I love you, Mom” sounded appropriate to me. I knew it had to be something good. It had to be something good not to lessen my impending punishment, but because I owed it to her.

I slowly crept out of the bathroom and waited around the corner of the kitchen, listening carefully to the mumbling of my parents.

“They could have followed him in their cars, Walker!” Mom said in a hushed voice, “I can just see it now…Taylor peddling down the road in fury and them driving along next to him just trying to get a glimpse of him…someone would have been bound to steer the wrong way!”

“I know but it didn’t happen. He’s okay. He’s fine,” Dad tried to soothe her, “You told the fans not to follow him, and they didn’t.”

I heard Mom’s voice get quaky, “I feel terrible…I absolutely yelled at those girls. I told them that if they followed him I would call the police immediately….I screamed almost, Walker….”

“You were just scared…”

“He doesn’t understand how terrified he makes us doing bold-faced things like that…he may not like the restrictions that come with this dream, but he needs to accept them…”

I sunk down against the wall and sighed. It was really one of those moments of revelation that most teenage boys hate to admit to having. It’s one of those moments where a light bulb clicks in your head and you realize….they were only looking out for me. I hate those moments because they make me feel so shamefaced and silly, but I know those are the moments that mold my character. I know that.

Eventually I heard Mom and Dad sit down at the table and the chatter of my siblings.

“Who’s doing grace?” one of my sisters asked, Jessica I think.

“We’re waiting for Taylor…” Dad said, “Give him a moment.”

Not wanting to make my family wait on me any longer, I pried myself off the ground and up from my squatting position and entered into the kitchen. I avoided their eyes as I sat down at the table. I was positive they were all feeling sorry for me, except maybe for Mom and Dad.

“Taylor, would you say grace?” Dad asked.

It was like rubbing salt in my wounds. I wasn’t composed enough for this. I wasn’t cool enough to get the words out that would please the family before dinner…but I just nodded obediently and hung my head, folded my hands, and closed my eyes.

“Dear God,” I spoke. As I started, I realized everything I wanted to say to him. God, I am so sorry I keep screwing up! I should be learning my lesson…help me learn my lesson without having to screw up over and over again. God, I love Mom and Dad and all they do for me and they just want the best and I give them a hard time about it and make their job harder than it needs to be! I’m an ungrateful son treating them like I do and I’m an ungrateful person acting so unprofessional and reckless around those girls outside and…God…help me to shape my character. Help me please.

Dad cleared his throat when I didn’t speak.

“God….it’s been a really hard day for me especially and I apologize for the sins I’ve committed today…and there were a lot of them. I just hope…I can wake up tomorrow and go to church and be able to really connect with you God…” I paused to think. I wanted to make this a family prayer. I desperately searched for a way to pull everyone in, and yet all I could think about were my own mistakes. “God…thank you for my family as difficult as it is to be thankful for that sometimes because of my own selfishness. Bless this food to our bodies- Amen.”

Dad nodded at me when I opened my eyes, “Do you have something else to say to Mom?”

The entire family sat up from praying and looked to me. I looked at Isaac for support and he gave me a small smile. He always was encouraging when someone needed to do something really difficult.

“Mom…” I turned to her, “Mom….I know you’re sick of hearing it…I can’t express that enough, I know I’ve been screwing up over and over again…but I’m sorry. I’m trying really hard to be a good, obedient person! I am…and I’m trying to make the right decisions and respect you and Dad like I know I should, and have to, but sometimes I just…I don’t know what happens. I just get these streak of defiance in me I guess…and it’s just…uncontroll…well no. I guess I can control it. I just…it gets the better of me, I suppose. I know I haven’t been perfect, but I have been pretty good. I haven’t gotten in trouble except for a few bad uses of language since that day backstage when I completely disrespected you…and that’s because I’ve been trying. I guess I just haven’t been trying hard enough…”

I rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants and tried to think where I was going with the whole speech…

“I know you’re just trying to look out for me…rationally, I realize that. I just forget when I’m frustrated with the rules. I just always realize my wrongdoings…well, when it’s too late. I realize my behavior today was completely…disgusting, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I guess I need to try a bit harder.”

“Taylor…” Mom sighed, “It shouldn’t be something you have to try at. You should respect me because I’m your mother and I raised you and AM raising you.”

“I know…” I sighed back, “It’s just not that easy….trust me. I don’t like being in trouble anymore than you like it…”

To my surprise, she nodded as if she actually understood.

“I’m real sorry, Mom,” I said earnestly, looking up at her, “I love you and I’m sorry.”

She nodded and said, “Get over and give me a hug.”

I felt ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, getting up from the table and scurrying to her side for the hug I needed so badly. But that didn’t stop me. She wrapped me in her arms and kissed my head, “I love you too, and love when you behave.”

I nodded and when I felt I was completely hugged and comforted, I sat back down at the table. For one foolish moment, I thought maybe my punishment was done for the day.

“I’ll be dealing with you about a completely different issue,” Dad announced. Then he turned to everyone who looked like they were reading to start grabbing food and shoving it into their mouths with their bare hands. “Alright, lets eat.”

The Hanson mad grab for food ensued. Hansons were reaching over people, talking loudly recounting stories from the day, and choking down as much food as we could. You never know when it’s going to run out in a family of our size.

I was quiet, which didn’t surprise anyone. I ate a bit of the hamburger casserole and a small helping of salad, but my appetite was just lost for obvious reasons.

After I’d sat there for 15 minutes trying to force myself to eat, I finally looked up to Mom, “Mom…I’m not hungry, really. Can I be excused?”

She nodded approvingly. I managed to take care of my dish and escape to my room in less than a minute.

I laid there on my stomach for awhile watching the lava in my lava lamp churn. The room was dark except for the green glow of the light. The moment itself, if you ignore the fear of my next punishment, was perfect. I felt strangely relaxed laying there. I knew what I was going to be punished for. The only thing that Dad hadn’t addressed yet was when he walked in on me with Charlotte. I knew just how much he and Mom disapproved of that kind of thing, especially at my age, and I knew he was going to show me just how serious he was about it.

I must have fallen asleep to the shifting of the lava lamp, because the next thing I knew I was being tapped by Zac.

“Tay…” Zac whispered, “I hate to wake you…but Dad told me to come get you.”

I looked up at him in surprise and let the scene soak into me. Waking up, hardly ate dinner, about to be spanked for the second time today.

“Dad wants you to get up, grab your Bible, and bring it to his room, okay?”

I sighed and nodded. It was clear Dad was going to pull Jesus into this mess, which wasn’t unexpected. I got up and rubbed my hazy eyes, searching for my black leather Bible. I found it and gave Zac an appreciative look. I could tell just by his manner he was there for me, and that was important to me.

“Good luck…it’ll be over before…before you know,” Zac tried to assure me.

I gave him a nervous laugh and took the daunting walk to Mom and Dad’s room. With my Bible tucked under my arm, I entered with shaky legs and quivering hands.

Dad was sitting on a chair pulled up near the bed with his reading glasses on, thumbing through pages in the Bible. He nodded at me to sit down on the bed near him.

“Son,” he began as I sat down, “What I walked in on today was not appropriate, was not allowed, and was not holy. I will tell you right now that Charlotte’s father doesn’t care. He didn’t exactly like seeing what you two were doing, but he told me that you’re typical teenagers. I want you to know I will not accept that answer. I am not raising typical children who will be typical adults. I want to raise moral and ethical children who will have stronger morals and ethics as adults. I am not satisfied with typical.”

I swallowed as I allowed all the thoughts in my mind to disappear, and I let myself take in each word he spoke. It sounded important by the way he wore his deep-seated voice.

“I am going to give two reasons for why what you did with Charlotte was wrong,” he stated, “The first is that it is a rule in this house that our children do not partake in that kind of behavior. A kiss is fine. You know that. But Mom and I have made it very clear that we forbid our kids from behaving like that. You know that. You know the boundaries. Those boundaries ALONE should be enough. The second reason should be enough on it’s own as well. That reason is that God did not make sex for 14-year-old kids.”

“Dad…we weren’t…”

“I know you weren’t. You would be in a heck of a lot more trouble if you were. But what you were doing leads up to sex, and I am not comfortable with you putting yourself in a situation where it is that tempting.”

I swallowed in embarrassment. I was very familiar with the sex talks, and yet they still were always humiliating. My parents were always completely open with us about what they approved and didn’t approve of. It was Isaac’s fault really, since he got caught with a girl when he was 14 while she had her shirt off, and from then on my parents had decided to drill it into our heads.

“Tay, God created sex. He knows how good it is and everything that goes along with it…”

My cheeks reddened and I looked down in horror, “Oh man…” I mumbled. The conversation was getting all the more awkward.

“He wants us to have sex, but he doesn’t want us to have sex outside of marriage. Can you open up to Genesis, chapter 2, 24-25.”

I nodded and found the relief of being about to focus on the book, and not my fathers embarrassing lecture, quite comforting. I quickly found the page had been dog-eared in my Bible from some other time in my life.

“Can you read it?”

"Therefore…a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and they shall become one flesh. And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed,” I read.

“What do you think that means?”

I sighed, gently not angrily, and pondered the question for a moment, chewing on my bottom lip. I was too worked up for intense questions like this.

“Taylor?”

“Ummm…I guess it might mean…that…sex is for marriage because…it is only meant for when you are not ashamed…ummm..”

“Sex is supposed to be comforting and loving. But it is only that way, it is only completely perfect and unashamed, when you know someone so well, and love them so much, that you have married them.”

I let the words digest.

“I know you were not even close to having sex today, but if that keeps up you will become closer and close each time, and you’re only 14. At 14, if you can’t control yourself to watch your mouth in front of your mom, I cannot see you being able to deal with temptation that powerful. It’s not that I don’t trust you because I don’t have faith in Taylor,” he spoke of me in the third person, “But it’s because I don’t have faith in 14 year old boys to keep this heads on straight. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“I want you to feel convicted about what you did because it was a clear defiance against our rules, and because it was seen as wrong in the eyes of God too. Not only is it tempting, but to be that close with someone that you hardly know, Taylor.”

“I don’t hardly know her…”

“I’m not going to argue it with you,” he said, ending that debate quickly, “I want you to know, that you crossed the line today. A peck on the lips is fine, but that is it right now.”

I sighed and closed the Bible in my hands, “You want me to be uncool…” I mumbled.

He smiled, to my surprise, “I don’t think you could be much more cool without your ego bursting, Taylor. So what if you’re not running around making out with girls. Your playing your music on television and doing interviews on the late show. I think that’s cool enough.”

I think out of everything my dad said, that was what hit home the most. I’ve always tried so hard to keep up with my friends. I’ve never wanted to be the inexperienced or left out one. If they’re kissing, I’m going to be kissing too. If they’re touching, I’m going to be touching too. Hell, if they’re jumping off a bridge, yep- I’ll jump off the bridge too. And yet suddenly as Dad spoke, I realized what he meant. I had something that the guys didn’t. I had a career and a dream coming true and girls waiting outside of my house and…how silly I was to think that I had to keep up with something as simple as kissing. I smiled at Dad, but it faded as I watched him remove his belt from his waist.

“Dad…” I began, “I get what you’re saying. I really do. I see where you’re coming from. I am completely exhausted and…I just want to lay in bed and think about this all…”

“You’ll have plenty of time to think about this for the rest of the weekend since you’ll just be going to church tomorrow and home immediately. Right now, you’re going to get punished for breaking the family rule you know has been taught to you since you had even the slightest interest in girls.”

Sadly, any feeling of cool washed out of me and I suddenly saw myself as the pathetic baby I had felt like just an hour before.

“I want you to take your pants down again and lean down over the bed,” Dad drilled, folding the belt in his hand.

I gave him pleading eyes but they didn’t work. He just stood there and waited for me. The fear in me submitted though to my desire, my NEED, to obey my parents…my need to show Dad I understood and accepted what I had done wrong. As much as I wanted to run in fear of the impaling pain that was about to come, I didn’t hesitate to drop my pants for the second time and lean myself over the bed, propping myself up by my elbows.

“Boxers down,” he added. I pulled them down too. “Do you understand why you’re getting this punishment?”

I nodded. I really, truly did. I braced myself as I waited for the first slap of the belt. It came, doubling the burning of my already hurt bottom. I wailed in pain immediately, automatically reaching behind myself and covering my backside. As soon as I did it I realized that I shouldn’t be and removed my hand again. I was relieved when Dad didn’t say anything.

I wasn’t relived to have him banding my backside with sore, red lines. Each time the belt whipped against my bottom, I wailed even louder. Finally, after 15 nauseating whips, he stopped and I heard him putting his belt back on. I waited for his permission to compose myself- watching the tears from my face drop from my cheeks onto the bed. I was hysterical.

“Get everything pulled up,” Dad finally spoke and waited for me to do it. Then he turned me around by gently guiding my shoulder and looked at me, “Do you remember getting spanked like that before?”

I nodded, wiping the tears from my sticky cheeks, but they just kept falling.

“I didn’t think we’d end up here again this soon, but I think that’s a clear indication that you need to shape up and fast. Do you understand?”

I nodded, releasing a thunderous sob.

“Stop testing us,” he said so simply. And it made so much sense. I just needed to stop seeing how far I could go. I needed to simply obey.

I nodded again and he reached out and hugged me. It wasn’t a short hug. He stood there as I cried rubbing my back and shushing me until I felt my crying begin to cease.

“I want you to go and call Charlotte, tell her our rules, tell her about how you’re going to respect them, and invite her over to dinner for one of the nights during the week. Okay?”

I sighed into my father’s protective shoulder. I was comforted by what a loving father I had. “Thanks Dad…I’m real sorry…”

He nodded and patted my back, “I can tell.”

I gave him a compliant smile before wiping my tears, rubbing my throbbing bottom, and walking off to tell Charlotte about my standards. I realized it was all about respect. If she respected me, she would respect that I feel I have a commitment to respect both God and my parents, and that was something I was out to uphold.