I read a thread on getting in trouble when your mom heard of something you'd done from others. Not a problem for me. My mom was a mind reader.My big problem was wearing my guilt on my face, not others saying something. Rarely did I have a spankable offense that I didn't get spanked. If it hadn't come out before, it would at bed time. Mom would come in, sit on the side of my bed and say something like, I want you to tell me what happened today, and I expect you to be totally honest because if you aren't …. she'd let it hang and before I could stop myself I'd be telling her everything.There was part of me that wanted to confess despite it meaning a spanking. Mom would listen, say something like, “You know I can't let you go unpunished, don't you?” I'd say yes, I knew, or nod my head, and mom would say, “I'm sorry Thomas, I have to spank you. Get out of bed. I'll be right back.”When she came back she'd be carrying something to spank with. Likely the hairbrush. She'd sit on the side of the bed, down would come my PJ bottoms, and we'd have a talk about what I'd done and the spanking I was about to get. Then, over her lap I'd go.After a good hand spanking I'd be crying and she'd say, “I'm going to spank you with the hairbrush now. Get ready!” and smack it would hit and my bottom would burst into waves of deep hurt. After 10 to 15 with the brush it would be over, unless I'd really messed up in which case after I'd got up off her lap she'd say, “That was just the first part, Thomas. I'm going to get the strap for you now. I want you sit on the bed and wait for me.”I was given a little time to calm down and then I'd hear her coming down the hall and when she came into my bedroom she'd have the strap. “Stand up,” she'd tell me. “Turn around.” Then she'd place my pillow on the bed, tell me to take my PJ bottoms right off and, “lie over the pillow please, bottom nice and high up. That's good. A little further forward please. Legs a little apart. That's good. Now I want you to lift your bottom up. Go on your elbows some. You know what to do. Okay, that's good. I'm sorry about this, Thomas, but you need it, don't you? Don't you?" I'd mumble something and she'd say, “I'm going to strap you now, Thomas. Right now!” and splat the strap would land, I'd bellow.I'd get six to ten with the strap. Slowly, deliberately with her telling me how sorry she was she had to strap me but I needed it and she had to make sure it was a good strapping so I'd learn my lesson.Afterwards I remember sobbing, her holding me, comforting me, saying it was all over now, how brave I'd been, how sorry she was she had to spank me and how she hoped I'd be a good boy and not need to be spanked. Sometimes she tell me how she too had been spanked by her mother, my grandmother, when she was my age so she knew how much it hurt and she also knew how it could help me be a better boy, just as it had helped her to be better.I wonder how many others had mothers who were mind readers.