Ok, so my Mom had this HUGE leather belt with a big brass buckle with an enameled smiley face on it (70's man) it was this bit of theater she played on us that we had to walk down the hall to her bedroom, get the belt and bring it back, then she would slap her wrist while she laid the guilt on, by the time she actually bent us over it was a relief. I was six or seven when I realized there was only the sound of the belt snapping that made us jump, she hardly touched us, no welts, no pain . . . did not tell my sister for another year.
