Etta's Naughty Little Boy

You asked me to recount my thoughts on the disciplinary methods I impose on my son Jonathon.

I can say without any hesitation that it is unashamedly traditional.  My hope is that it helps other like minded concerned mothers adopt a similar approach in their own approach to home discipline.

Matters first came to head as my son Jonathon turned sixteen and became involved with some badly behaved boys. It  soon became apparent to me that I had no alternative other than to regress Jonathon back to a time in his life when mummy knew best.

My first action was to introduce a smacked botty for even the most minor of infractions. I facilitated this mode of discipline by ensuring Jonathon wore traditional school boy style short grey trousers that ensured smacked botty time  was made much easier.

I have also introduced some of the behavioural standards one would commonly see in years gone by. I now expect Jonathon to address me as "mummy" at all times.

In addition, any of my frequent guests must  now  be recognised as "aunty" and other ladies he may come into contact with as "Miss".

Most importantly I have now introduced a strict traditional dress code. A meeting with Jonathan’s headmistress confirmed that there would be no objection to him wearing the short trousered uniform that usually only first years wear.

This is probably a good time to recount to you the first visit I took to the traditional outfitters to purchase his new clothing. His behaviour had gradually deteriorated until I'd run out of patience. When I was told that he'd misbehaved by swearing in the presence of the vicar I decided that urgent action was required. For the first time in many years I pulled down his jeans and smacked his bottom. The punishment seemed to shock him and Mummy was definitely in charge from that moment onwards. This gave me the confidence to introduce the dress code that I'd been considering.

Making him hold my hand all the way, we walked to the high street one Saturday morning and turned left down Flannel Lane and entered Miss Hardacre’s shop, a traditional outfitters that sold, as the shop front stated, Little Boy Clothes For The Older Boy.

A small bell tinkled as I pushed the shop door open and Miss Hardacre, dressed in a crisp white blouse and wearing pince-nez spectacles asked if she could be of assistance. I told Jonathon to stand still and behave himself while I outlined my requirements. I then returned to Jonathon and ushered him into one of the large changing rooms and proceeded to remove his clothing.
Miss Hardacres assistant pulled aside the changing room curtain to pass me the first item of clothing, Jonathan was quite naked and staring at the floor in embarrassment as she appeared.

“It’s Jonathan isn’t it?” She said pleasantly. “I’m Melissa, I’m in the year below you at school, I thought I recognised your mum’s voice from the school committee.

Jonathan stood with his hands over his bits looking as if he wished the floor would open up and swallow him.

I smiled, it was quite amusing to me that Jonathan would be equipped with a new wardrobe by  a girl from his school who was a year younger than him.

“I prefer to be known as Jonathan’s mummy if you don’t mind young lady. Jonathan, put your hands on you head and say hello to Miss Melissa like a good little boy.”

”No mummy please don’t make me….”

I was in no mood to compromise and insisted that he reply to Melissa in all his naked glory.

He put his hands on his head as I had ordered and stuttered “H..h...hello Miss M..M.. Melissa.”

She smiled as she looked at him then passed me his new, little boy style underwear. I encountered initial reluctance from him to put on his new underwear, a return to traditional white underpants and a white vest under-garment, but a reminder that he was heading for a trip across my lap in front of Miss Hardacre and Melissa, let him know I was in earnest.

I tucked the hem of his under-vest into his underpants as if he were a small boy and then proceeded to redefine his slovenly image.

A short sleeved, traditionally tailored shirt, which I buttoned to the neck was swiftly followed by a striped clip-on school tie. Then, and much to his horror, a pair of short trousers in schoolboy grey. The very short legged trousers were hitched up high, with the shirt tucked neatly into the elasticised waistband . A grey V neck sweater and a smart maroon blazer were next followed by regulation knee length grey socks  and finally a pair of brown T-Bar sandals completed the transformation of Jonathon into a smart little boy.

His complaints grew louder by the minute but a series of slaps on his bare legs kept him in check. At this point I opened the curtain and led him back to the shop counter where we were greeted by the two assistants who had helpfully ensured that my requirements were catered for.  Miss Hardacre made a point of commenting how smart he looked in his new school uniform and patted his head stating that  it was a pity that other mothers did not dress their unruly children this way.

Melissa smiled and coughed delicately.

“Excuse me madam but I think you may have forgotten a very important item of a young schoolboys uniform.”

She opened one of the highly polished wooden drawers behind her, pondered for a second or two before turning to Jonathan and fitting him with a traditional school cap the same maroon colour as his blazer.

Jonathon’s eyes began to tear up and he made to remove his new cap, but I was too quick for him and slapped his hand away before informing him sternly that these clothes were to be his school and church attire from this point forward and that he would no longer be wearing jeans, t shirts or training shoes in the future. Then I made him apologise to Melissa for his bad behaviour.

Even though he took some coaxing he eventually stuttered, “I’m very sorry for being a naughty little boy Miss Melissa.”

He looked mortified addressing a girl younger than him him in such a demeaning manner but I was determined to instill respect in him.

It was at this point that I noticed the rails of raincoats assembled in the corner and realised that Jonathon would need such an item.

Following a brief discussion with Miss Hardacre, Melissa was despatched to locate a navy blue gabardine mackintosh. When Jonathon was greeted by this perceived monstrosity, despite his previous warnings, he threw what I can only describe as a proper tantrum when told that this was to be his new, everyday overcoat that he would have to carry daily over his arm in case of rain.

It was below knee length, double breasted with a belt, buttoned to the neck and was a perfect complement to his new outfit. However he was having none of it and let out a series of loud complaints outlining precisely why he wouldn't wear it.

Miss Hardacre held the mackintosh up to him and told him not to be such a naughty little boy and to put the mackintosh on at once as he was behaving the right way to receive a smacked bottom and an early bedtime. This was all the incentive I needed and without a moment's hesitation I pulled him over my lap to administer the soundest of smacked bottoms as
Miss Hardacre and Melissa looked on approvingly while I punished my sixteen year-old in the traditional naughty boy manner.

Once again taking the gabardine mackintosh I pulled it over his arms and shoulders. Turning him around to face me I proceeded to button it up in front of everyone as if he was a small child. His eyes said that he wanted to protest, his bottom said otherwise, and he stood there meekly nursing his sore rump while I secured the top button and tightly fastened the belt. Asking him to stand up straight, I knew that the mackintosh was a perfect addition to his new wardrobe.
I also intended to reinforce his new disciplinary regime by introducing strict early bed times. One problem was his night attire. As with his daytime attire I had become lax and allowed Jonathon to wear unsuitable clothing to bed each night and on occasion nothing at all.

His new bedtime was to be set so that he was tucked up in bed by 7.30. I determined that to implement this successfully he must revert back to wearing traditional little boys pyjamas and that necessitated further purchases from Miss Hardacres excellent emporium.

Miss Hardacre and especially Melissa were delighted to discover I now needed to procure some new, little boy pyjamas for Jonathon. Melissa asked Miss Hardacre that she be permitted to serve us and she enthusiastically soon selected several pairs of traditional  little boy style winceyette pyjamas that buttoned to the neck.

Melissa carefully unfolded them and watched as I held a pair of pale blue racing car motif pyjama bottoms against Jonathan. We had quite a discussion on sizing and style until Melissa suggested Jonathon should actually try a pair of the infantile pyjamas on.

Much to his chagrin, Jonathan was again undressed and Melissa selected a pair of pale blue little boy winceyette jim-jams for him to wear.

“Come along then little one, let’s see how cute you look in these cosy jimmy-jams shall we?”

She spoke to him in that sing-song, infantile voice that is usually reserved for babies and toddlers, Jonathan blushed beetroot red at being dressed in babyish pyjamas by young Melissa.

Melissa gently coaxed him into the pyjama bottoms and soon had him fully buttoned up into the pyjama jacket.

“There’s a good boy she praised as the sixteen year old stood reluctantly resplendent in his baby blue pyjamas.

Miss Hardacre and Melissa fussed over him so much he blushed continually, especially when I made him thank Miss Melissa for, “choosing my lovely new pyjamas for me.”

We left the shop with four pairs of delightfully childish pyjamas and a pair of Thoma the Tank Engine blue fluffy slippers and sixteen year old Jonathan wearing his new schoolboy uniform.

Melissa has undertaken babysitting duties for me and now most afternoons, Aunty Melissa as he must now call her, escorts Jonathon home from school and immediately supervises his bath and dresses him in his little boy pyjamas ready for me to tuck him into bed by 7.30.
I enjoy hearing her as she talks to him not as a sixteen year old but as if he were a baby or a toddler. “Into your bath, there’s a good boy. Clever boy now let’s get you into your pyjamas and ready for beddy-byes shall we?”

Of course in the event of unsatisfactory behaviour his bedtime can be brought forward, it's not at all rare for him to be in his jim-jams and tucked up in bed with a sore botty by 5.30 if he has been particularly naughty.

I hope my account serves as an example to other mothers out there who are thinking about imposing little boy clothing disciplinary measures on their wayward offspring.

Yours faithfully

Etta