Poking The Bear

When you live with a spanking man who is grouchy because he’s on a diet, teasing him about snacks is fraught with at least a little bit of peril:

Some nights I might bring a small snack to munch on as I read. The other evening I remembered there were pretzels in the pantry, and I took 3 rods. Sam met me in the hall and furrowed his brow when he saw the sticks in my hand.

“Where are you going with those,” he asked.

“To read, of course,” I answered with a smile and here is where the bear-baiting began.

“Are you supposed to have those?” he frowned looking at the pretzels longingly.

What popped into my head was…

“Thou shalt not covet thy wife’s pretzels.”

Instead, I smiled and said, “Yes, I can have these because I am not trying to lose weight; I am simply trying to maintain.”

I did not think I sounded like a Weight Watchers Wise Ass, but apparently Sam thought I did. He grabbed me in a bear hug with one arm and started spanking my wise ass with the other. When I started laughing, he yanked down my pajama bottoms quicker than you could say, “Don’t Poke the Bear.”

The Bear had been officially poked, and my giggling just fueled the fire. He most certainly was lighting a fire on my ass. Way back when ttwd was new to us, I believed that a hand spanking was really lightweight. Well, times have changed, and Sam tells me it is “…all in the wrist.”

I was off to bed with a lovely glow on both sets of cheeks. After kisses and hugs I settled in to read with a big smile on my face.

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