Seven years later
“Am I gonna get a spanking?” Florence, our four-year-old asks as she looks up at me with those azure eyes that are equally as piercing as her mother’s.
“We don’t spank children in this house,” I say off-the-cuff.
She brings a finger to the side of her face and squints out of one eye as if trying to solve a mystery. Our kids are so damn cute I wish there was a way to record their funny behaviors and expressions all the time.
“But if you don’t spank kids, then who do you spank?”
I swallow hard. “No one,” I answer quickly. “Now let’s get you ready for bed.”
I scoop my little girl up and carry her off to bed, Gabriella shooting me a knowing look as I go. It says ‘nice parenting’ mixed with ‘that’s not at all true’ in one expression. And she’s absolutely right.
Sardinia was a great place to live for five years, but the last two in Rome have been better…especially when I found a home for sale that had an underground catacomb that looks more like a macabre underground labyrinth, which Gabriella and I have used to set up a little adult
playroom where the kids will never find us.
We can have a babysitter over and tell them we’re going for a night out on the town, only to sneak in the backyard, into the labyrinth, and have one heck of a night right under the house…and nobody has to know.
“Dad, it’s too early for bed,” our oldest Milan whines, after I finish tucking in Florence and come back for one of my two boys. It’s become a nightly ritual, scooping the kids up one by one and getting them to bed.
“Everybody’s in bed tonight at nine. We’ve got a big day tomorrow buddy.”
“Oh yeah!” he remembers, our scheduled tour of the Colosseum tomorrow. After having watched Gladiator recently he can’t wait to do his best Maximus impressions.
After I get Milan down I come back and see that Romeo, Sicily, and Siena are already gone.
“Where are the rest of our kids?”
“Bribery,” Gabriella says, smirking.
“You got them all to bed that fast?”
“I told them we could go for pastries tomorrow if they went to bed right now, and they practically tripped over each other getting there.”
“Pastries is all it took?”
“Sometimes you just gotta know their sweet spot. Pun intended.”
“You mean, punishment intended,” I counter, scooping her up off her feet and carrying her to the bedroom as I spank her with my free hand.
Gabriella giggles away and I already know what kind of playtime tonight is going to be.
“Are you going to carry me to bed too, Daddy?”
“You betcha,” I say, proud I remember some of my American English expressions from my year there as an exchange student years ago.
“Do I get a pastry tomorrow too?” she asks, puffing out her lower lip.
“My little piccolina gets whatever she wants tomorrow. And tonight, Daddy’s going to take everything he wants,” I smirk.
“But I’m getting fat, Daddy. Maybe I shouldn’t eat so many sweets.”
“You are sweet and no negative self-talk. Daddy loves your body, little girl. Remember, this body has given us five children. Not to mention if you have gained any weight, which I swear to Dio I haven’t noticed, it just means Daddy can really let loose in the bedroom.”
“Daddy wants to wrestle tonight?”
“Oh, we’re gonna wrestle tonight. And Daddy’s going to wind up pinning you, holding you down for a long count, and taking what he wants.”