Mother went home, and I think scrappydo felt it immediately. He became clingy and restless, always underfoot. Following me from room to room, hovering too close, watching my face for attention like a pup who forgot his place. I gave him time to settle. He did not.

So I corrected it.

I had the boys secure scrappydo to the St. Andrew’s cross, arms spread, body fully on display. He is compact but solid, all tight muscle and effort. Strong shoulders, smooth back, posture proud until it is tested. Being restrained like that stripped away his bravado quickly. He went quiet. Obedient. Breathing shallow.

The first lashes were not rushed. I took my time. Each strike landed clean and deliberate, drawing sharp reactions from his body. His back flushed, skin warming under the attention. By the tenth, he was trembling, jaw tight, eyes wet, fighting hard to hold himself together.

I stepped close then. Let him feel my presence without giving him relief. Let him understand that neediness does not earn comfort in my house. When I finally touched him, it was only to bring him right to the edge of himself, just enough to confuse his instincts and heighten the lesson. Then I stopped.

Five more lashes followed. Slower. More controlled. The kind that land and stay with you. His body took them, every muscle reacting, every breath earned. He understood then. I could see it in the way his shoulders dropped, in the way resistance melted into acceptance.

I left scrappydo there until the moment passed completely. Until the need drained out of him and left only calm and clarity behind. Only then did I allow the boys to take him down.

scrappydo learned what I needed him to learn. Attention is earned. Neediness is corrected. And in my house, every lesson is felt before it is forgiven.

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