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One day I had some sewing to do, so I went to my machine and began to work. As I was sewing, Mike came into the room. He must have been about 3 at the time. All of a sudden he decided to put his hands up by the needle. I kept telling him, "No", but he persisted. I finally slapped his hand (lightly, of course). Not having been slapped or spanked before (because he was the perfect child), he thought it was a game. He started laughing and kept putting his hand back on the machine. Finally I just quit and we left the room.

Mike, you can't remember a smidge of this, can you?
Apparently, my 'perfection' doesn't extend to my memory!

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