Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
I opened the door to find James standing on the porch, his shoulders slumped slightly. He was a regular, and I knew the signs. His red-rimmed eyes suggested a rough week, and the way he clutched his backpack to his chest told me he was feeling small and vulnerable. “Hey, James,” I said, offering a warm smile. “Come on in. I’ve got your favorite juice box chilling.” He shuffled inside, kicking off his sneakers near the door. The house was carefully curated to be a comforting space. Soft rugs, pastel colors, and a complete absence of sharp edges. It was designed to soothe.
“Rough week?” I asked gently, leading him to the oversized, plush armchair in the living room. He nodded, unable to meet my gaze. “Work’s been awful. My boss is breathing down my neck.” He finally looked up, his eyes filled with distress. “I just… I messed up and forgot a really important email.” “Everyone makes mistakes, James. It’s okay. That’s why we have second chances, and erasers, and…mamas.” I gently stroked his hair. It was soft and fine, not like a grown man’s hair at all. “Tell me about it.”
Consequences For James
He poured out his frustrations, the words tumbling over each other. I listened patiently, offering occasional words of reassurance. When he finally wound down, he looked exhausted but also a little lighter. “Thank you, Mama Cory,” he mumbled. I paused. “Now, about that email…Did you apologize?” He blushed, looking down at his hands. “Not really. I just tried to fix it.” “Hmm,” I said, considering. “Fixing it is important, but acknowledging the mistake is too. Sometimes, there are consequences, even with Mama.”
His eyes widened slightly. The word “consequences” hung in the air. “I think,” I said, my voice firm but kind, “that you need a little reminder about responsibility. Are you ready for that, baby?” He nodded slowly, his lower lip trembling slightly. I stood up and went to the small table in the corner, where a selection of implements lay carefully arranged. A soft paddle, a wooden spoon, a leather belt. I chose the paddle, its smooth surface harmless in the wrong hands, but capable of delivering a sharp sting in the right ones.
I returned to James, who was now kneeling on the floor, his head bowed. “Bend over, sweetie,” I instructed. He obeyed, his hands resting on his knees. The first swat landed with a loud crack. James flinched, a small gasp escaping his lips. “That’s for forgetting the email,” I said, my voice even. “And for not apologizing right away.” I delivered five more swats, each one measured and controlled. James whimpered softly with each impact.
When I was finished, I placed the paddle back on the table and knelt beside him, pulling him into a hug. He buried his face in my shoulder, sobbing quietly. “It’s okay, baby,” I whispered, stroking his back. “It’s all done now. You’re a good boy, James. But sometimes you need a little reminding.”
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
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