The life and times of Mr. Happy

Right now, you are asking yourself, who the heck is Mr. Happy?

Is he the same guy from the Roger Hargreaves series?

No, not in this case.

When I refer to Mr. Happy, I am, in fact, referring to a wooden spoon that my mother's friend would use to discipline her kids, ala Catholic school nun ruler beating across the tops of your hand style.

Mr. Happy was no ordinary wooden spoon. Rather, someone had taken the loving and caring time to etch a smilely face with a soldering iron and when Mr. Happy came out to play, tears flowed like a majestic river of sugar free grape kool aid.

Thankfully, my parents, being the enlightend folk they are, were never big into the whole corporal punishment scene.

However, they did try the spoon trick. Once.

I'm don't remember what, exactly, I did wrong, but I am sure I went out of my way to earn the fabled spoon smack. What I do remember is laughing at the first recourse of my actions...a hand smack. My foolish courage was rewarded with a upgraded punishment, Mr. Happy Style.

Like the sad clown, I laughed no more and retreated to my bedroom in furious tears. There I lay, waiting, plotting, until I glanced over to my desk and a grand vision unfolded.

I knew what I must do. The sleeping hours could not come soon enough, but once they did, my mission began. I stealthily crept into the kitchen and abducted the wooden utensil which wronged me only hours before.

I took the spoon back to my room, sat at my desk and inserted the handle into my pencil sharpener. I then began cranking the handle and laughing like a 3 year old mad man. I wore that handle down to a mere nub of its former glory before returning it to the drawer to serve warning to other spoons.

I guess it worked, cause the spoon beatings ceased. Victory was mine!