I think I was six that winter. Generally, I was the Good One.
Not quite the Angelic One, like my oldest brother, but definitely
not the Defiant One like the middle child. If I was told to do
something, it was usually a safe bet that I would do it. If I was
told not to do something, you could almost always believe I
wouldn't. But, every now and then, a little girl has to push the
envelope.

	This particular envelope-pushing happened in the "back-back" of
the old, blue station wagon. We liked to ride back there because it
faced the wrong way, and when you're six, driving down the street
facing the wrong way was pretty darn exciting. Now, just thinking
about it, I get motion sick.

	The other thing about the back-back was that Mom couldn't see
what we were doing. That particular Sunday, my older brother had
brought bubble gum. Most kids I knew were allowed to chew it, but
Mom hated it. Apparently she'd had her fill of cleaning it off the
floor, or cutting it out of hair, so it was forbidden until we were
old enough to chew it without playing with it.

	It smelled incredible. Tasted even better. Grape flavor so
intense I had to fight not to swallow it. She couldn't see me. It
wouldn't hurt to play with it just a little. Pulling it out,
stretching it as far as it would go. Blowing a bigger bubble than my
brother and then ... that moment ... tongue pushed in to the middle
of the thick wad of gum, poised to begin another bubble, instead,
the entire wad of gum ended up on the upholstered floor in front of
me.

	A rush to pick it up, praying no one noticed, praying Paulie
would keep his mouth shut ... but "Oooooh, you're in trouble" rang
in my ears and the next minute is a blur. Mom demanding to know what
happened, Paulie quickly giving me up, and that horrible realization
that the car is pulling over.

	I don't remember now if I said a single word, or just sat with
mouth agape while Mom marched to the back of the car, opened the
door, hauled me out, and perched on the floor of the back-back with
me over her knee. I was aware of people sitting on their front
porches, children playing in the street, as my Sunday dress was
yanked unceremoniously above my waist and my cable-knit tights were
pulled down well-below my bottom.

	Smack after smack fell as I howled, caring for only a moment
that we were entertaining the whole neighborhood. When I'd been
soundly spanked, she stood me up and I cried as she did her best to
clean the gum off of the car's floor. I tried to yank my tights up,
and pull my dress down, and I tried not to care that strange little
children were laughing at the spectacle I made.

	The whole rest of the way to church Mom lectured about the evils
of chewing gum as my brother smirked at me and blew tiny bubbles.