Naughty Irish Imp

Naughty Irish Imp

Monday, November 19, 2012

Just Wait Til Your Father Gets Home

How many times have you heard those words?  **sighs**  I successfully navigated my way through childhood without ever hearing them. Oh there were probably a couple hundred times I should didn't have one back then. Actually when I was a kid and one of my girlfriends was freaking out throughout the school day about being in trouble with her Daddy when she got home, I sort of thought they were being over-dramatic babies. 

Now.......I get it.

Fast Forward......I am now 27.....ask me how many times I have heard those words in the last year.  **sighs**  Probably still not as often as I ought to......but enough times that I know what I am 'waiting' for. 

Lucky me......I have (again) earned myself one of these father-daughter 'discussions.' Though I'm not certain "discussion" is the right isn't much of a give and take chat......

He will talk. 

I will listen and occasionally add a "yes Sir" or "no Sir." 

It's now quarter past 11pm here and I can't sleep.....I just keep looking at the clock and counting down how much longer my ass is safe (literally).....15 hours left, if you're curious.

By 2pm tomorrow afternoon, I will be sitting quietly on my bed......waiting......
Waiting to hear his footsteps......
Waiting to hear him turn the doorknob......

I'll probably be nervously playing with my cell phone as I wait, or fidgeting with my hands, or mindlessly twirling my long red hair around a finger as I quietly contemplate my fate. 

I might punch the bed a few times, or bury my face in a pillow to scream, or just hold my face in my hands and wait.........praying time will crawl.

You shouldn't feel too sorry for me (I'm doing a good job of that myself). I really did do this to myself and I deserve everything I get.....really, I do. I made a stupid decision......well, a couple of them, just one in particular. I knowingly broke a limit.....intentionally disobeyed his rules for me.....and put myself in immediate danger in the process. Naughty with a capital 'N'.....I absolutely deserve this punishment. 

Knowing I deserve this doesn't make it any easier right now as my panic rises and it wont be any easier tomorrow. I know when that doorknob turns and he enters the room, it's only going to be harder. 

Regardless of my wishing......the bed will not swallow me up. I will inevitably have to stand up, directly in front of him even as my shaking knees threaten to buckle. It will take me a couple minutes but I will eventually have to raise my eyes from the floor, slowly rising up and taking in his towering frame. Seeing his strong arms folded across his chest will cause me to pause as I prepare for the facial expressions that match this strict paternal stance. 

Finally, his expressive dark brown eyes will lock with mine and we will stand there silently for a moment as his eyes clearly convey the extent of his displeasure with me.

I'll feel small, ashamed, scared and sorry. So sorry for giving him reason to look at me like this again. I hate it; disappointing him breaks my heart. 

His intense, penetrating stare will surely prove too much and my eyes will wander to the wall, the floor, the bed, his shoes......anywhere but his eyes. My breaking eye contact will test his patience, it always does, but I can't help it. He will give me a firm warning and I'll reluctantly return my eyes to his, continuously blinking to hold back the tears that threaten to spill out already......and he hasn't even touched me yet. He doesn't have to, his eyes can sting far more than any paddle. 

I'll stand quietly in front of him as he reminds me why we are here. His voice....deep, steady, silky smooth but all-business. He will raise his voice to emphasize certain words of this lecture, and each time he does I'll jump and close my eyes. His voice will be menacingly soft for the majority of the scolding, but it will subtly hint at the worry, the anger, the disappointment just below the surface. 

My palms will be clammy, my stomach tied in knots but at this point I'll lock my bright green eyes onto his and quietly watch as that unmistakable wall rises and his typically warm, inviting brown eyes turn cold, grim and resolved. I'll want nothing more at this point than to wrap my arms around his waist, crying and apologize over and over for what I've done but I can't, not yet. Just as I think I might cry, he will send me to the corner, and I'll gratefully scurry off to it, relieved to be out from under his firm gaze momentarily. 

After what feels only mere moments, his voice will boom out from behind me, calling me to him. I'll take a deep breath and slowly turn and approach him, my heart racing, my stomach turning, my traitor legs following his commands under their own power escorting the rest of me to his left side, my eyes locked on the floor. I'll stop just short of him and as he reaches out to encircle my wrist in his hand, my eyes will also betray me and a single tear will slowly begin its descent down my cheek.

But before any of this takes place, I will have to make it through the next 15 hours.........

Just waiting until my father gets home.........


  1. oh dear!, 15 hours of anticipation like that is punishment enough! I heard those words alllll the time when i was little girl..

    "L, just you wait until you father gets home"

    The words terrified me. The thought of his handsome face scarred by his furrowed brow, his disappointment. There was corporal punishment, but not often following the words "wait til your father gets home". I think any corporal punishment had already been delivered! by a frustrated mother!

    Daddy doesn't come home now to punish.


  2. Hey littleone.......I imagine if I were really a little girl that these words would terrify me too...being an adult though and having no point of reference prior to finding Professor...hearing or reading those words now: "Just wait til your father gets home", the phrase alone draws tears to my eyes. I suddenly feel like I really am a little girl.....small, scared, ashamed, remorseful.....knowing I've got one of these father-daughter discussions on the horizon leaves me nervous and panicky for days leading up to the actual 'talk.' It pulls at something inside of me and I can't control my natural reactions to hearing the words. Hard to explain, but I know any girl who has heard those words and had to stand before her daddy and answer for her naughty behavior, understands completely why the phrase elicits such a powerful response from me.