Monkey has been asking to go to the circus for a while now, in part because of the constant advertisement on TV, and in part because I told her months ago we could go when it came.  (When did she start to have a memory like mine?)  Daddy found a coupon code online for 50% off so we went for fairly cheap and had great seats.

The morning started out crazy, with Daddy and I fighting simply because I am eight months pregnant, huge and cranky, and he is two months into my bed rest and exhausted. Money is tight thanks to our medical expenses, and the only stable thing right now is our marriage.  So, it made sense to attack that too.  Misery loves company, right?

Monkey, sensing our tension, was doing everything to draw the attention to herself – including throwing toys, not listening to instruction, throwing a fit about getting dressed/brushing her teeth, etc.   Basically the Anti-Monkey was spawned in all of it’s glory.

We finally made it out of the door and to the circus.  Monkey was tired from the morning, but was clapping along and giggling.  She especially liked the motorcycles in the steel ball.  After snacking on popcorn and lemonade, she fell asleep.  Although it should be noted she made it farther in the show this year, than last.  When the lights came on, Daddy lifted her to his shoulder and we began our trip home.  Well, about that time the Anti-Monkey spawned once again and threw a full blown temper tantrum because we were leaving the circus.  I know I am a proud mama, and I know there are things with her that I am blind to, however, I this is only the third time I have ever seen her loose complete control.  She was kicking Daddy’s seat in the car, screaming and crying so hard she could not speak, and trying to pull off her seat belt.

We tried to talk to her in calm voices.  We offered her some more of Mommy’s drink.  We tried to distract her with a movie.  No change.  We played stern Daddy and nice Mommy, which usually works.  No change.  Then Daddy did something I never thought he’d do:  He pulled over, pulled her out of her car seat, gave her a firm spank on the butt, put her back in her car seat and began to drive off.  The hilarity struck me moments later, because not only did it work, meaning she finally shut up she apologized for her behavior and fell asleep moments later.

The silence got me thinking about all of the times my brother and I got the roadside butt beating.  It was deserved each and every time, yet I hardly ever see cars on the side of the road with kids being yanked out my their shirt collar for a good, old fashioned lesson in life.  Why is that?

Perhaps if we did a little more pulling over, and a little less awarding everyone for participation, we would not need government bail-outs and a socialist society.  So, I am making a pact:  The first presidential nominee to threaten to pull this country and spank our butts, gets my vote.  I know it’s only one little vote, but it’s what I’ve got, and thanks to my mom and her ability to not even pull over when it was butt whoopin’ time, I will use it and accept what happens after that.