"Mama, stop. Mama get up," I tearfully pleaded.

　　She stood, and brushed herself off. At first stunned, the others waiting in line began to sporadically clap, and before I knew it they were cheering and laughing and patting my mother on her back. She blushed and took a little bow and the next thirty minutes in line was pure misery for me as various parents leaving the Layaway Department, shake their heads at me and say with a smile, "Your mom got you good. I bet you'll never try that again."

　　And I didn't, because it left a lasting mental picture more effective then any physical mark.