Saved by Spanking
I was spanked. Not often, because I was a good kid. But still, I have one clear memory of getting a solid swat across my butt: I was probably 5 and had thrown a doozy of a tantrum in the grocery store. My mom told me that if I didn't calm down, she would spank me when we got home. I didn't calm down. So when we got home, she unloaded the car, put away the groceries while I sat, brooding and panicking. When she finished, she called me over with a pat of her lap and gave me a couple whacks.
I don't remember crying. I'm sure it didn't hurt (my mom's pretty wimpy). So of course it hurt my mom more than it hurt me, as she assured me when she hugged me afterward. And in fact, according to a study by Marjorie Gunnoe, a professor of psychology/child development at Calvin College (full disclosure: my beloved alma mater), those whacks made me the well-adjusted adult that I am today (*cough, cough*).
While other research (the ones that have kept my husband and me from ...1