Seedlings (Spanking One Shots)

Rolling into Trouble (Owen's POV- Owen, age 7)

At first, I was sad when Ben announced that the carpet in the downstairs was going. Sure, it was ancient and had more stained spots than clear ones, but carpet was the sort of thing that held memories. Like the bright red splotch behind the end table, from the time I spilled cherry Gatorade from laughing so hard at Cooper. I liked to think it look just a bit like Africa. Or the torn, frayed bits at the edge of the carpet next to the garage from the edges of everyone's shoes as they came in from the outside world. There was a raise in the floor, a deformation in the foundation caused from an earthquake no one could remember. We couldn't just say sayonara to something that had been in our lives that long!

Needless to say, I was pretty bummed when the carpet men came and ripped it up ruthlessly, revealing dirty concrete below. My despair only increased when I saw what they began to lay down a couple days later.

Hardwood floors.

Stiff, long planks of wood that did not feel good when you ran too fast in socks and tripped or when you went to lay on the floor to watch a movie—even with two blankets! This was pure mutiny, I tell you.

I told as much to Ben, who'd only chuckled and said he'd been generous enough to keep the carpet upstairs.

I had received a pair of roller blades for my seventh birthday a few months back, and I hardly ever took them off. They were neon green with lightning bolts adorned on the sides. I liked to pretend I was flash as I zipped up and down the sidewalk, though I could never go further than two houses down, which didn't give me a lot of room to build up speed.

When they'd first ripped the carpet up, I'd realized the concrete floors were much smoother than the concrete outside. One lazy afternoon, I'd strapped on my rollerblades and zoomed around the living room, admiring the way the floor gave little traction to the wheels under my feet. There was no buzz of vibration or the soft clacks as I rode over the etchings in the sidewalks. This bliss lasted for all of twenty minutes before Dana caught me by my ear and literally rolled me into the foyer, where he griped at me and took away the skates for the rest of the afternoon. I wanted to protest, but Dana wasn't really one to be messed with when he was in that kind of mood.

Now, a week later, the hardwood floors were in, and I was hating them. Ben had already scolded me for sliding around in my socks. I huffed as I sat on the floor uncomfortably, not even able to enjoy what was on TV. Everyone else was out grocery shopping and I was stuck with Dana, because apparently I was too much of a "grump" to go.

Dana was in his room, studying or reading or doing some other boring grown-up stuff. I was bored out of my mind, but knew I couldn't go out front without a grown up. All I really wanted to do was roller skate. They sat by the front door, just mere feet from me, mocking me.

I scooted across the floor toward them, just admiring their beauty. To my seven year old mind, there was nothing better in the world. As I slithered along the ground, I noticed how smooth the floors were. Smoother, in fact, than the concrete was underneath. An idea came to me then, one I would come to regret for many years. However, at the time, all I could think of was my brilliant plan as I strapped on my skates and did an experimental lap around the living room.

The feeling was luxurious! The hardwood was smooth and unyielding against my green wheels, and I glided along the floor, feeling on top of the world.

I laughed giddily, gaining confidence and in turn gaining speed. I cut a sharp turn around the edge of the couch, squeezing between the coffee table and the wall.

Unfortunately though, I misjudged the true amount of space I needed to get through the area. I tried to keep my balance as I stumbled over my own skates, but I could only do so much with wheels under my feet and the high speed the smooth wood provided.