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The day before my birthday

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Yay! It's my (pretend) birthday tomorrow, and now my mummy is going to wrap my gifts. Last year she did this while I was locked in my playpen in another room, but as I'm a big boy this year and out of diapers I'm going to be in the room while she does it. Come on, she tells me, playtime over, let's put that play-doh away, it's prezzy wrapping time. Sit in that chair, the one with arms and long legs; I am lifted in and my feet are not touching the ground. As if from nowhere, mummy has the nasty wooden paddle in her hand; she places it on the table. This is so I know that discipline (a long mummy-word) is always close at hand. Smiling all the time, mummy places my lower arms on the arms of my chair; some pink padded ribbons are wrapped around my arms, and the arms of the chair, and tied tightly where I can't reach the knots. I can't get out!

Mummy leaves the room; I wriggle to see if I can get free, but it's no use: mummy has tied me up very well, I've never yet managed to escape. I keep wondering if she is going to come back with the gifts, but instead she is carrying a plastic box containing some rolls of wrapping paper, sticky tape, scissors: not my own ones with green handles which mummy lets me use for craft, but big metal ones I'm not allowed to touch. She pulls a pink Hello Kitty scarf out of the box, folds it in two, and stretches it between her hands: I know what this is for. I'll keep my eyes closed, I say. No you won't, says mummy, I know that you would cheat if you could, you naughty boy, and when this is over I'll have to spank you for lying. She walks behind me, and I can see the Hello Kitty scarf appearing in front of me; it becomes bigger and bigger, turns black, and I can feel it tightening around my head and over my ears. Mummy is tying a knot at the back of my head, like what she does with a ribbon on wrapped gifts.

You can't see anything, can you? I know better than to say "oh yes I can"; I did that once before and got spanked for lying. Mummy's right that I can't see; I think it's weird that I can't even see the kitties on the scarf, only black and the dark.

I hear mummy leave the room and enter it again: she's wearing flip flops, so I can hear where she goes. We've played lots of games before where I'm blindfolded and have to find her, so I know I can use my ears to tell where she is, even if I can't see. She must be carrying lovely things for me; if only I could see them! I think of when we wrapped some gifts for my friend, and imagine mummy doing the same. We wrapped up a paddling pool for him, I wish it was for me. Paper is being cut, I can hear sticky tape. I can hear mummy coming to me: what is she doing now? I can feel something put into my hand. Have a feel, mummy says. I do as well as I can, with my arm tied to the chair. It has square corners, I think it's shiny paper, I wonder what colour? I can feel the decorative bow, and the tag. But now it's gone from my hand, and I hear more wrapping.

Last year I would have been bored by now, but mummy sometimes keeps me blindfolded for a long time, so I'm used to it. Anyway, more time blindfolded means more presents! I still can't believe I have to wait until tomorrow to open them, and I won't be able to sneak up in the night and open them, because mummy will lock me in my bedroom for the night as she always does.

Close your eyes, mummy says. This means that she is about to take my blindfold off, and everything will be all bright. I do as she says, and I feel the scarf being untied, and falling away. When mummy says I can open my eyes, I see four presents on the table: one is big and square, wrapped in dark green paper, with a red ribbon tied round it. One is round and squashy, wrapped in red; the last two are small and oblong. I wriggle with excitement, and try again to get free, but mummy smiles knowingly, puts them in the craft box, and carries them out of the room.

When mummy returns, she is looking more stern, and she picks up the paddle. Oh no, I forgot she was going to punish me for lying. Please mummy, I'm sorry, I know I wouldn't have kept my eyes closed. Too bad, mummy says. As soon as I've untied you, you're going over my knee for saying something you know not to be true. I hang my head as she unties my arms; I feel I want to run away and hide, but I know it would be all the worse. Mummy picks me up, sits down and puts me in position, all in one movement. This time she hasn't taken my pants down, but I can feel her hand pressing on my back, holding me in place. Smack! Even with my pants up, the awful sting races through my backside; I wriggle and try to escape, but she is holding me firmly. Smack! Ow, it hurts. Smack! (sob) You won't lie about keeping your eyes closed again, will you? Smack! Through my tears, I hear mummy tell me how lovely my birthday will be tomorrow: unwrapping prezzies, staying blindfolded while the cake is made, licking cake mix, and birthday spanking with my favourite ouchy slipper.

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