This, as I said in my last post, is from epoch 1. My poor mother, divorced and trying to start a career as a lawyer, had very little choice when it came to childcare. There was a family living next door with several adolescent children, and they became, nearly by default, my babysitters.
Truthfully, I've completely forgotten their names, but they all (in my memory, this includes both parents) had flaming red hair, of (I'm not making this up) the Heat Miser shade. In general, since they were older, I looked up to them, though to the extent that I can now remember, they didn't deserve to be looked up to in any way. Among other things, they were apparently obsessed with rug-hooking, and I look back with disbelief on how dedicated I was, for months and months, to learning to rug-hook.
They must themselves have been disciplined with their father's belt. I can't think of another reason why, on some minor pretext (not coming when I was called, maybe?) the older girl (let's call her "Alice") told me to lie on my bed on my stomach, because I was going to get a whipping. . . .
For more about the "real" me, read the Companion! You'll find the rest of this post (and it's hot, I promise!) there.