CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Reader’s Note: This is Joanne Swift’s journal, adapted for reading, detailing the events around October 9^th Sunday 2016 after Mort Goldman has left and her daughter goes to bed.

I crept in to my closet to look for an apron for my daughter to wear the next morning. I have to admit I felt extremely guilty about doing this, but I didn’t want to disturb my husband’s sleep. I had stealthed my way past my husband previously to fetch Cadmus, and I thought he may not notice.

He did.

“What are you doing up and out of bed?” My husband was surprised I was in the closet as he awoke to find me creeping around. He often tied me up at night, but tonight he had been too tired.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I answered submissively, and explained while turning to face him that I was just going to lay out a new apron for Taylor in the morning. He expected me to look him in the eye when he was questioning me – but right now he was lying in the bed with his eyes half open.

“Makes sense,” he harrumphed and yawned – he was half-asleep and comfortable in our king-size bed. “You didn’t get permission to get dressed,” he teased.

“I’m sorry, Master.” I didn’t normally offer excuses but I added, “I didn’t want to walk through the house naked and I hadn’t wanted to wake you.”

I normally slept and remained naked in our bedroom when the door was locked, wearing only my butt-plug, day collar, and high heels.

“I should make you wear a similar apron.” He was teasing and added that way he could tell when I’m turned on so he could punish me for being such a dirty slut.

“I’m turned on right now, Master,” I admitted playfully in a sweet, seductive voice. “I’ll wear anything you want.”

“I bet you ARE horny, my slut. You’d do anything to please me,” he said confidently, and told me only dirty, wicked bitches get turned on by this kind of training – something he’s said since the very first night together when I got turned on. “You should be spanked repeatedly!” he declared.

“I should!” I agreed with an inviting grin. I was down for that in a big way, and wanted my husband’s touch in any form or fashion he would give it.

“Unfortunately, I’m very tired.” He stretched out and told me to come suck him off. It was anti-climactic, but not the first time he had ordered a simple blow-job and nothing more.

I knew better than to mention bringing the apron to Taylor when I was given a direct order for sex. I complied immediately with his wishes and stripped. There are very specific rules on how to remove clothes so that my body is fully exposed, and the clothes are folded before they hit the ground.

I don’t think Tom was watching, but I adhered to the ritual of undressing anyway and then crawled into our bed. I was disappointed that he wasn’t already hard, but I picked up his cock with only my mouth and put my hands behind my back, holding my ass cheeks apart in the real sitting position that he didn’t dare teach my daughter.

The goal there is to be as fully exposed as possible, and either tits touch the carpet or you’re sitting fully upright. He was hard quickly and came just as fast.

“Thanks,” Tom replied groggily.

“May I finish myself off, Master?” I kept any trace of bitterness out of my voice. My greatest pleasure is to serve him and please him and I was no hypocrite. I hadn’t gotten off, but I’d gotten him off and I was glad.

Still, after the events of tonight it would have helped if I could have had my brains fucked out, and failing that at least play with myself. I suggested allowing me to get Big Mike or Louis – two of the more heavy-duty toys in our collection.

“No.” Tom ordered that I could finger my asshole if I wanted and then promptly fell asleep.

I was frustrated but I couldn’t be angry – he had a very long and trying day. This was something that had rarely happened to me in the past though. He told me in the past that I could be overly sensitive and insecure at times and he wasn’t withholding affection – sometimes a guy just has to sleep. I told myself it was nothing to take personal and played with my ass just as he told me.

I wanted to masturbate – I wanted to fuck him. I did what I was told though and strangely that provided something like a soft orgasm of its own – a wave of pleasure in doing what I was told and knowing what I was allowed to do.

I fell asleep shortly after with my finger in my butt and didn’t wake up until early that morning. I always get up before the kids, and on weekends that’s a fairly easy thing to do. It dawned on me I had left Taylor completely naked the night before and with nothing to wear.

I quickly cleaned off my finger with my tongue, put on my apron and took a new apron to my daughter. This one was black and a little more conservative than the white apron. She’d still have to wear it open in the back to expose her butt to the paddle, but it wasn’t see-through; and if she got wet, it wouldn’t be so easy to notice around the crotch. It did look a little like a “French Maid” costume – as in fact, it was, from a Halloween costume I’d worn to a munch one year.

Her boobs would also not pop out all over the place. I thought that may be a little more appropriate, considering the kids would no doubt have their friends over today. It wasn’t unusual for my kids to have four or five friends over at the house on the weekends, and I was certain that at least Donny and Scotty would find it highly entertaining to show off their sister in this new role.

My daughter is just down the hall on the second floor. I only had to take a few steps to notice the door she normally kept bolted shut was hanging slightly open. The door was festooned with Robert Smith pictures and cute jet-black signs that read “Keep Out – This Means You!” She’d even gone so far as to decorate the door with yellow police tape they use for crime scenes – so it was quite unusual for the door to be open.

I was thankful to be the first one to notice! My daughter was laying on her bed passed out, completely naked. She had obviously been waiting for me, and I felt extremely guilty about not coming right back as I had promised.

The part that concerned me, though, was she was laying on the bed with her legs spread, holding her hairbrush; and it was obvious she had been masturbating with the handle all night as it was still inside her. She was drooling as she slept in an awkward position on top of her pink skull-and-crossbones comforter.

“Taylor…Taylor…” I shook her to wake her. She was notoriously hard to wake – but typically only on school days did I have that problem with her. She would usually complain about some ailment or her period and try to get out of going.

“Fart Face!!” I huffed right in her face and she sputtered awake with a look of panic and alarm on her face, clutching her naked body.

“You’re lucky I found you and nobody else, dirty girl!” I said with a look of shame on my face.

“You didn’t play with YOURself last night? Ma’am?” Taylor called me ‘Ma’am’ but her tone was unsettling and disrespectful.

“What I did was none of your business, Fart Face!” I did feel hypocritical for giving her a hard time when I realized I had played with myself and was very tempted to flick my bean last night, even though Tom had told me not to. I was, however, the mom, and so I told myself it was an entirely different standard that I held myself to.

“Fine, then spank me! Or make me stand in the corner, please, Ma’am!” Taylor held her face like a spoiled princess who was getting punished for the first time.

“I will not.” I didn’t want to spank her or punish her that way. It made me extremely uncomfortable to even imagine myself spanking her lily-white ass. “You’ll be punished today, I’m sure, if you don’t shape up your attitude and keep your mind on the chores we have to do. I brought you a new apron to wear.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Taylor set down the hairbrush on her dresser and started to get dressed. Her nipples were already hard and perky – having freshly sprouted while we talked. I felt sorry for her because I knew how frustrating it could be to be that horny and yet unfulfilled.

“Are you forgetting something?” I folded my arms across my chest and waited for her to figure it out.

Taylor looked at me as if I were going to tell her the answer.

“You need to clean off the hairbrush. I know where it’s been and so do you. You’ll shower, use the restroom, and then be downstairs to help with breakfast!”

Taylor made a face, but stuck the brush handle in her mouth and twisted it as she sucked on it. “I do taste good,” she mused with a twisted smile.

“You aren’t supposed to like that,” I said, and I reminded her to hurry.

“I don’t have to pee right now though, Ma’am,” she told me as I was leaving to start breakfast.

“You should try because no one will be up to give you permission to go if you need to for at least an hour,” I suggested.

“You’ll be up, Ma’am.” Taylor reminded me that I could permit her to go.

I felt uncomfortable with the title of ‘Ma’am’ and certainly with the ability to give her permission to use the restroom. I wasn’t a total pushover with my kids, or completely indecisive, when it came to what I considered ‘normal’ things– like walking the dog or taking out the trash.

I did, however, find this adjustment to being strict on Taylor harder than I thought.

I began breakfast as I always did, by starting Tom’s coffee; and I had just a teensy glass of wine. I don’t want to give you the impression that I’m a drunk, but I wanted to take the edge off, and I didn’t want the kids to see me drinking this early in the morning, so I had one before they came down.

Taylor lollygagged and spent far too much time primping and doing her hair and makeup before she joined me. I tried to chastise her about it, but she just rolled her eyes and suggested I punish her if I thought she was doing wrong.

“How else will I learn? Isn’t that what Dad said?” she asked.

“The problem is that I actually agree with you and think this is the best thing for you,” I admitted. That was the God’s honest truth of the matter. If anything, it didn’t seem like it was going far enough. Naturally, given the maturity level of the kids, including Taylor, it would have to do.

She may have been surly, reluctant, disrespectful, and lazy, but for Taylor the fact she was even helping around the house in meaningful ways and trying was a vast improvement. I wasn’t sure how long her willingness to submit to her father’s will would last.

She could have easily just insisted he get bent last night and what would he have done? I told myself that one of the reasons I didn’t want to punish her myself was that I was afraid she’d tell me absolutely not and then Tom would blame me for messing up his plan. Taylor could be stubborn and confrontational and, in the past, had a way of yelling and twisting an issue around so that you felt bad for bringing it up.

The real truth though was that seeing her naked bottom getting swatted and hearing her do the rituals of discipline seemed very sexual to me; and I felt very uncomfortable with that for reasons I cared not to think too hard about.

I couldn’t help but notice the black rubber circle between her butt cheeks as she flitted around the kitchen.

“You know Cadmus is a little larger than Ignotus was,” I told my daughter, and reminded her that if her father noticed and asked she should tell him that I got it because Ignotus was too loose. “I’ll take the heat for not asking if you can move up a size. I’ll say it was just a minor detail.”

“Okay, Ma’am,” Taylor said as she sliced onions for the hash browns – awkwardly holding the knife like it was a deadly snake. Her tits shook even through the apron as she sliced hard – I could only imagine how provocative it would be if my son’s friends were present and she had on the same apron from the night before. I didn’t want to even think about it; it was going to be bad enough her bare ass was visible.

“You need to learn to hold that knife properly.” I showed her how to hold it and asked if the plug was too intense or hurt.

“Not really, Ma’am.” Taylor said she didn’t mind it at all. “I’m used to it now – I don’t even notice it that much,” she said.

I was surprised. I had begged and pleaded not to wear one initially, but after a few weeks I felt more comfortable with the smaller plugs. The stainless steel plug, with the diamond base, I wore was much bigger.

“His name is a Bud, by the way,” I said pointing to my ass. I thought commiserating with her would be a helpful way to bond.

“Whose name is Bud, Ma’am?” Taylor asked me curiously.

I quickly unwrapped my apron and showed her my bare ass cheeks. The crystal twinkled between my cheeks as I introduced her to Bud. “He makes me want to poop sometimes because he’s so heavy,” I admitted.

“OMG! Can I hold it?” Taylor seemed genuinely excited when I showed it to her. I was actually strangely flattered that she didn’t think it was totally gross or sexual. I was quite proud of Bud – he was a special birthday gift that Tom had given me.

I looked over my shoulder at the door. “The others could come walking in at any minute,” I warned, with a giggle at the daring request. I wouldn’t have even considered showing it to her the day before, but now that she had worn a plug herself I felt more at ease about talking to her about them.

I had never been one to share my business with outsiders, and even when we were active in local BDSM munches I never had too many close friends in the group to talk to about it. I was actually a little elated at Taylor’s curiosity and enthusiasm.

“You sure you want to get me in trouble after what happened to you yesterday?” I asked rhetorically as I tied off my apron. Taylor genuinely looked disappointed, so I promised to show Bud to her later.

Taylor wasn’t a huge help with morning chores, but she did try. She scrunched up her nose and made faces when I asked her to actually scrub something or help make the food. I was making my traditional pancakes, bacon, hash browns with grilled onions, and breakfast sausage with biscuits and country gravy.

“Pour the orange juice for me, please,” I asked my daughter curtly but with a polite tone. I wasn’t going to coddle her, but I felt very uncomfortable bossing her around.

“Fine, how many glasses should I pour, Ma’am?” Taylor asked.

“Well, there are five of us, so five glasses.” I laughed at how obvious the answer should have been to her.

“Dad said I was to wait until everyone was finished, then just eat the leftovers, Ma’am,” Taylor reminded me.

“I don’t think he’d seriously not want you to have anything to drink, though,” I wasn’t sure how harsh Tom was going to be this morning. He could be grumpy in the mornings, but he was also a teddy bear underneath that gruff exterior. He may have completely calmed down after he had a night to sleep on things. I told Taylor that she can set the table for five and Tom will tell us what to do.

That seemed to please her and she went about setting the table. She was really more of a hindrance to me than a help. I am a stay-at-home mother who loves to cook, so I’ve never made the kids set the table or help with dinners. I actually felt guilty that she was awkward and unsure of what to do because it had been my fault for not showing her how to do it sooner.

How would she be able to manage things on her own when she finally moved out or went away to college?

“Hey Mom,” Donny was the first one to roll into the kitchen. “Hey-ya, Fart Face!”

“Hello Sir,” Taylor’s eyes narrowed into slits. She was wearing dark eye liner that made her eyes look like a raccoon.

“That isn’t very respectful,” Donny observed while looking at her butt flitting around the kitchen, hanging out of the back of the apron. “You aren’t even bruised from yesterday’s spanking!”

“I’m sure you’re disappointed, Sir,” Taylor answered sarcastically.

“Mom, permission to spank her butt for insolence?” Donny was joking when he asked for permission to spank his sister’s behind.

I told him that was denied and only her father could punish her. He didn’t argue the fact, nor did he expect I would have told him yes. He was clearly kidding, but he was also tall and bony and lacked his father’s strength – he’d never be able to spank hard enough to get her attention. I decided it best not to tell him as much and hurt his feelings.

“Hey, is she going to walk Sandor like that?” Donny asked as he started trying to dip his fingers into the food before it was ready.

I smacked my son’s hand away from our breakfast and thought about his question. She was supposed to walk the dog, but Tom had said nothing about what she should wear out of the house.

“No way, Sir!” Taylor folded her arms and insisted she wouldn’t budge out the door in the apron.

“You went to the neighbors last night in an apron!” Donny reminded her.

“That was at night when it was dark out, Sir,” Taylor said.

“The reason your ass is exposed is to make it easier to paddle, and to humble and disarm you. The skinny jeans you wear, expensive shoes that are supposed to look like cheap sneakers, fancy clothes, the way you dye your hair black and then green and then blue; all of these things give you power – so you lose them now. That power is all in your head anyway – you’re just a snot-nosed teenage girl, but you dress like you’re a queen, and you make everyone around you feel less important and less attractive by your and your friends’ standard of beauty.” I lectured my daughter as Tom had once lectured me.

Tom had a similar philosophy for keeping me naked whenever possible. It not only humbled me but pleased him to see me naked, and it prevented me from having any secrets or hiding anything from his eyes.

I will grant you that his lecture to me was on how I used my tits to lord over everybody. He told me when we first started dating that I didn’t flash them or keep them on display like a normal slut. He said I was much worse because I kept just the hint of my giant boobs hidden under my sweater so that guys knew I had them and wanted them – but couldn’t have them; and that was my power over men, so I could manipulate them to give me whatever I wanted.

I was also a hot twenty-something girl with big 1980’s hair, bangle earrings and a Baywatch body – so that helped.

His lecture had helped me to see that I was just a dumb girl who used her body to get what she wanted. I just did it differently than most dumb girls, because it was in the DENIAL of seeing my tits where I held power. My 36GG knockers were two tickets to any place I wanted to go, and a permanent and open authorization to charge anything and everything to some dumb guy’s credit card. All I had to do was make the guy FEEL like he could see or touch them if only he gave me what I wanted.

Tom had made me cry the first time he told me that, but his training eventually made me a much more well-adjusted woman who just happened to have big boobs. Tom disarmed me by keeping me naked around our apartment, and he had me dress without a bra and show them off to make me uncomfortable and to take away the power I had to hide them and still get what I wanted.

He’d made me less stingy with my body and more generous in how I dressed FOR him. He’d also made me feel vulnerable when I was walking around in a sheer outfit with no bra or panties; he had said that those were for nice girls. I went without bra and panties through most of the 1990s, and to this day only wear them with his permission.

Even after I accepted his training and conditioning, I was still aware of my nudity or partial nudity. I still got a lot of stares and, truth be told, I probably could have still used my tits to get free drinks, but he recognized that my particular power came from their denial, not from their display. He put me in a different head-space when I was submitting to his will by putting myself on display for him and his friends, and that really did take away my power.

Once the kids were a little older Tom and I became more discreet about that sort of training, and it’s been years since I thought about his lessons on the female body and submission, but they were still true.

I continued my lecture by pointing to Taylor’s ass. “That plug is a constant reminder that you are not in charge and your most intimate of parts can be used to educate you as a constant physical reminder of why you’re in this predicament without permanently harming you. Keeping you humbled and exposed is teaching you an important lesson,” I explained to my daughter.

“So I have to walk Sandor in just an apron? Fine! But I’m not going all the way down the street, Ma’am,” Taylor complained as she stormed off to get the dog from his crate in the living room and walk him.

“Can I go with her to make sure she walks ALL the way down the street, Mom?” Donny offered as he followed her with a chuckle.

“You don’t need to supervise your sister!” I called him back to the table.

“She’ll only walk him halfway down the street and come right back,” Donny offered as explanation.

“You ALWAYS walk Sandor halfway down the street and come right back too!” I smirked at my son’s sudden interest in making sure Sandor gets his proper exercise. I was sure he just wanted to have a little fun at his sister’s expense even though he was pretending it was for Sandor’s benefit.

“What are you going to do anyway if I didn’t walk him all the way down the street?” Taylor asked as she snapped the leash on the dog’s collar by the front door.

“Tell Mom!” Donny said, and reminded her she had to refer to him as ’Sir’.

“Go ahead, SIR,” Taylor over-pronounced the title ‘Sir’ and said that I wouldn’t do anything anyway. “If that’s all you’re going to do then I don’t care – you can come if you want to, Sir.”

I was a little disappointed Taylor wasn’t concerned if Donny or I saw her doing anything against the rules. I was tempted to find a way to punish her, to show her that I was her boss; but I was a little too timid to actually make a scene.

“You having to walk the dog with only your apron IS the punishment, Fart Face.” I reminded her that I could make things much worse if she was going to tempt me and make light of my authority. “You will walk the dog all the way to the end of the street – slowly. No running, and you’ll walk him all the way back just as you are,” I said.

Taylor actually looked apologetic and said, “Sorry Mom, I shouldn’t have said that.”

It wasn’t the formal apology that her father had taught her the night before, but it would do. It was against my better judgment and I was uncomfortable sending Donny to watch her but ultimately there was no harm in it and if the end result was the family dog would finally get a proper walking each and every time then so be it.

Donny smiled at me as if looking for permission to go. I shrugged and the two teenagers ran out of the house with the dog and with actual enthusiasm for a chore that they normally dreaded. It was early morning but I hoped Mr. Goldman or some other neighbor didn’t see her. The black apron hung open fully in the back so that most of her lower back and butt were completely exposed. I wondered if I should have insisted she tie it closed before she left the house. I didn’t want the neighbors to think we were freaks, but given how early it was I decided not to worry about it. Tom would be up soon and he would tell us how she was to walk the dog.

This is why I never asked to actually be put in charge.

The kitchen connects directly to the living room; and while there is a doorway, it doesn’t usually stay closed for long in a family with three kids. I only had a minute to myself before Scotty trotted down the stairs bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

“Where’s Fart Face?” He sniffed the air as if trying to pick up his sister’s scent.

“She’s walking the dog.” I took a sip of my wine. I had poured it into a coffee cup, a trick I had learned from another mom in Cherry Lawn.

“Oh, this is going to be a great day!” Scotty was very enthusiastic about watching his sister get put through her paces.

“I’m glad you think so, but her punishment is supposed to be an example to you so that you behave yourself, and not just to be a source of constant amusement,” I reminded him.

“Oh, it’s a great reminder,” he assured me. “It’s also a source of constant amusement, though,” he admitted.

I smiled into the coffee cup thinking to myself that at least he was being completely honest about it.

“It was so cool last night when you two were goofing on Mr. Goldman,” he complimented me. I should mention that Scotty seldom ever offered a compliment.

I asked him what he meant by ‘goofing on Mr. Goldman’.

“You know, how you and Fart Face were pretending she wasn’t really naked and saying she would be going out like a dog for Halloween?”

I nodded – that was pretty much what happened, although my son made it sound like we had planned to do it that way all along.

“You two were playing Jenga with him,” Scotty explained enthusiastically. “Seeing how much bull crap you could tell him before he didn’t believe it and the whole thing collapsed. It was fun watching his expression change each time you said something new – sort of like trying to mess with his head.”

“I think it best if you don’t say anything about that to anyone else.” I felt a little queasy about what we’d told Mr. Goldman the night before, now that my son described what he thought I was doing. I thought I had just been trying to avoid a problem with the most plausible excuse.

“Right on,” Scotty winked at me as his younger sister came trotting into the room.

She is my little eater and always has quite the appetite. She can usually finish her plate, have seconds, and then finish what the others don’t. Despite all that she remained quite thin, so I didn’t worry about her eating.

“When’s breakfast?” she pouted.

“When your father gets up, Janie,” I answered.

“It’s Princess Janie!” My youngest demanded I refer to her by her new self-appointed noble title.

“Only for your sister.” I told her that I would be calling her Janie.

“If I’m a Princess then I’m a Princess!” Janie pouted, explaining that the Queen of England is Queen, no matter who she’s talking too.

I was about to engage her in discussing it further when her father stormed into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Tom!” I greeted my husband warmly.

“Where’s our lazy daughter?” Tom said that he went to check on her room and it was a mess. “You’re already letting her out of helping with breakfast. My efforts were obviously wasted last night if you aren’t going to support them.” He was extremely grumpy as he sat at the kitchen table.

I poured him some coffee and explained that I had woken Taylor early, she had helped with breakfast, and she was actually walking the dog right now.

Tom brightened at that news as he sipped from the fresh, steaming hot coffee. “I’m sorry, then, for snapping at you,” Tom apologized. “That wasn’t right, and I was wrong to question you before finding out where she was,” he said, and promised it wouldn’t happen again.

“Quite alright, Tom.” I felt a little stifled that I couldn’t call him ‘Sir’ and Taylor could. It felt natural to call him ‘Sir’.

“I know what we did last night was very unorthodox, but I’m at my wit’s end with her. She’s lazy, deceitful, manipulative, cruel, selfish, proud, and those are her GOOD qualities,” he joked.

“I’m noticing a change in her attitude,” I said truthfully. I’d been uncomfortable with her bare bottom and the fact she was extremely aroused at times, but I was trying to accept the fact that her body’s reaction could be entirely involuntary on her part. She was getting physical stimulus that sent all sorts of confusing signals to her brain at the peak of puberty.

I didn’t want to think too hard about the mental and physical stimulus she was reacting too.

“What about you two?” Tom addressed Scotty and Janie, and asked them if they were okay with what happened the night before. “It didn’t scare you or seem obscene?” he asked.

“Hell to the Nah,” Scotty was the first to answer. Tom had no doubt that Scotty would react that way. He wasn’t going to have to do any chores, and his big sister finally had to pay the piper for all the rotten things she’d pulled on him or said to him over the years.

“She should have to call me ‘Princess’, and carry my books to school, and do all of my chores, and play dress up as my Barbie doll, and ALL of my board games and…” Janie began listing off all the many things she wanted her sister to have to do. There was no malice or hint of anger in her voice – she just wanted her sister to have to spend time with her.

There was definitely more than just a tinge of Janie getting to pick the activities and make all the rules when they spent that time together, but it was kind of understandable. The few times Taylor had spent with her younger sister she had usually relegated Janie to walking 12 paces behind her and her friends at the mall.

“I think there are elements of our lifestyle…” The cat was already out of the bag that Tom and I shared a BDSM lifestyle, but I was talking in a very high-level fashion so that the kids didn’t pick up on it. “Some of those lessons of respect, humility, obedience, and honesty translate very well to dealing with a bratty teenager,” I added.

“Where’s Donny?” Tom looked around for his morning newspaper. “I may have to do the same thing with that boy. Has anyone gone outside to get the newspaper?” he asked.

The front door opened at that moment. Donny was the first one through the door. “I was making sure my sister walked Sandor all the way to the very end of the street,” he explained his absence, adding that his father was the only person in 2016 that continued to subscribe to the newspaper.

“Hardee har har.” Tom reminded him that many people still used things like Yellow Pages and newspapers. “I prefer the old ways that have always worked,” Tom explained.

“What are Yellow Pages?” Janie asked with a confused expression.

“They are ancient books of knowledge written on stone tablets and delivered by Moses on a mule,” Scotty jokingly explained.

“You know how Mom and Dad say ‘roll up your car window’?” Donny asked his younger sister, and when she nodded yes, he explained, “In their day, they actually had a handle that rolled up the window.”

“Did the button not work?” Janie had never seen a car with a manual handle to roll up the windows.

“We didn’t have buttons back then,” I chuckled.

“Was that BEFORE or AFTER the Civil War?” Scotty joked.

Taylor was the only one of us not laughing and horsing around. She walked in with her chin up, and shoulders back, and presented the newspaper to her father in the plastic wrapper. She curtsied before him and remained quiet.

“Good job,” Tom commented and took the paper before noticing that she had gone outside wearing only the black apron and collar. “You walked all the way down the street like this, or tied the apron in the back at the door?” Tom stopped laughing and became stone serious with her.

“Nobody told me to tie it, Sir” Taylor stumbled over the words.

“People have to tell you to have common sense? I suppose they do – you haven’t demonstrated any in the past. I don’t know why I expected you to show any. You obviously need constant supervision,” Tom said.

“I supervised her!” Donny volunteered with a smile that suggested he thought his Dad would be proud of his initiative. The smile went away just as quickly when Tom blasted him for that.

“Who told YOU that you could supervise your sister? You haven’t exactly demonstrated common sense in the past either. Your mother tells me you rarely walk the dog all the way to the end of the street so I don’t know how you could expect to lead anyone by example. I haven’t even had my coffee and I already have a mess to deal with?” Tom asked rhetorically while staring at Donny and Taylor.

Nobody in the kitchen was smiling any longer.