Cuentos, Familia

The Belt

No one remembers the original offense. It’s not important. I did something bad enough to warrant passing on punishment to dad.

“Wait until your dad comes home. You’re gonna get it,” mom warned.

Uh oh. That was bad. Dad had less patience for misbehaved children than mom. I hoped she would forget by the time dad arrived from work 3 or 4 hours later. Perhaps she wouldn’t forget, but dad would just shrug off the report of my bad behavior and I would get away without a spanking. Yeah right, that was unlikely.

Dad was in a bad mood when he got home. No surprise. He’d been dealing with entitled and demanding customers all day and then sat through 2 hours of LA traffic on his commute from Van Nuys back to Hacienda Heights.

On most days, I rushed to hug dad as soon as I heard his car pull up the driveway. I loved taking his Igloo lunch box and looking for some leftover Fritos. That day I stayed away save for a quick hello. I returned to my room to read the latest Babysitters Club book I had checked out from the library.

Just as I was starting a new chapter, I heard dad call from the kitchen, “Cindy, come here.”

Damn, I thought. She didn’t forget.

In the kitchen, dad finished up his dinner while mom cleaned up.

“Your mom told me what you did. Go get a belt.”

I didn’t try to defend myself, and instead followed his directions.

I took my time looking through the closet. I was in no rush to get spanked. I sifted through dad’s black leather belts and mom’s brightly colored belts. I was used to dad’s belts. They hurt. I did the logical thing and chose one of mom’s flimsy belts.

I took it back to the kitchen. Mom was surprised when she saw me return with the turquoise belt she wore with one of her favorite dresses. Dad tried to hide his bemusement.

“¿Qué es esto?” he asked sternly.

I shrugged. “You told me to bring a belt.”

He thought silently while I held my breath wondering if he’d spank me with mom’s belt or send me back to the closet with explicit instructions to bring one of his belts.

After a minute he waved me away and conceded defeat. He’d just been outsmarted by an eight year old.


8 thoughts on “The Belt

  1. Sometimes, you hit it right in the bullseye. The line that amuses me is “I was used to dad’s belts”

    You ever hear those stories of our parents getting hit with branches and grandparents stripping the leaves one by one to build horrible anticipation?

  2. Oh my god I swear I was trippen out on how similar Mexican families are, first the lunch box with the Fritos lol!! my dad had the same thing, then I was a book worm too reading babysiiter club books I got at the library lol..then the infamouse belt the only diffrence was my dad was quick to take his thick ass Mexican belt off that he was wearing and whip us lol but yeah mom always was the one telling on us, then when he whooped us and we cried she would try to comfort us lol..

  3. I loved the Babysitters Club too! My dad never let me pick a belt though. He and my mom would just smack me as soon as I turned my back. I HATED that.

  4. chidolitis says:

    First, that was a slick move, shoulda’ thought about that one. 🙂 Secondly, my parents would surprise me rather than like build anticipation. HAHA, ah the sound of chanclas flying through the air.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s