When I was young, about 7yrs old, my mom used to take my siblings to the mall and it was so fun. We didn’t go often so every time we’d be on the way from church on a Saturday or Sunday morning, it was magical just to be there.

I’d remember the sound of jackets rustling and shoes hitting the linoleum while we sift through the crowds of people, the different smells of perfume samples at the kiosks, and my moms spit hitting my face as she screamed “DONT TOUCH THAT!” For the 50th time. But that was such a great feeling to be little and just share those moments with my family as a child in public.

Once I got so excited I ran all through the mall just taking in the hustle and bustle of the hectic shopping and something about the frantic energy in the air just surged through my little body. But when my mom caught me, god damn, she beat my ass so good. I mean she tore into me with that belt so bad that I was the only 7 yr old with a tramp stamp of three belt holes and a buckle.

But those were good memories, it’s nostalgic now to me. Every time I put my pants on and loop the belt in, I think of how good my mother was at beating children and how much fun I had going out in public with my family.