Page 72 of Giddy Up, Daddy

“Because we have a few more things to talk about. After your spanking.”

“What? Why am I getting a spanking?”

Chapter Twenty

Stafford eyed her.

She couldn’t seriously be wondering why she was getting a spanking, right?

“You’re getting a spanking because you were up a ladder. You put yourself at risk and that’s not allowed.”

“It was just a ladder. I wasn’t jumping off the roof using a blanket as a parachute.”

“You better not try that!”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I mean, maybe when I was seven I might have thought I could fly. And I might have tried that and broken my arm. But I have learned my lesson.”

“I should hope so,” he said sternly. “But that is beside the point. You could have fallen off that ladder and hurt yourself.”

“But . . . but . . . I didn’t know the rules. So how can I be punished for breaking one?”

Hmm.

That was a good point. Except . . .

“You didn’t realize that not being allowed to put yourself at risk would be a rule? Answer honestly.”

She sighed. “I guess if there were going to be rules that would be one.”

“Also, when I hired you, I told you not to do any outside house maintenance. That you were to leave that to me, didn’t I?”

“I guess so, but I didn’t know you were going to spank me.”

“You could spend some time in the corner instead. And write some lines. Actually, lines could be a good reminder. Writing a hundred times that ‘I will not put myself at risk’ will help keep that rule in your head.”

“I’ll take the spanking! I’ll take the spanking!” She jumped to her feet. “Let’s get it over and done with.”

All right, then.

He sat in the chair and drew her over to stand between his legs. “Why are you getting a spanking, babygirl?”

“Because I put myself at risk of getting hurt and I’m not supposed to do outside maintenance of the house.”

“That’s right. I would be devastated if anything happened to you. You’re not ever to do something that might end up in you getting hurt. No climbing up ladders or onto roofs. No driving over the speed limit or without a seatbelt. No jaywalking or crossing roads while on your phone. Things like that.”

“No jaywalking? Are you serious right now?”

“Very. No lifting heavy things out of the oven. No eating food until it’s been blown on and temperature checked. When you put your pants or shoes and socks on, you must be sitting down. No hopping around dangerously. And your shoelaces must always be tied.”

“Daddy!” she cried, smacking his shoulder lightly. He was being ridiculous now.

Then she froze. Had she really just called him that?

“I, um . . . I . . .”

“I like hearing you call me that,” he told her.

“Really?” she said with such hope in her voice that it nearly made him wince.

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