I teach 6th grade. when the school year starts, most of my students are 11 years old, and by the time the year draws to a close, almost all of them have turned 12.
Twelve-year-old girls are right on the verge of becoming young women. It is possible to see the women that they will be just a few years down the road. The boys, however, are almost always younger seeming, still a year, or sometimes two, from making the transition to adulthood. A twelve-year old boy is a delightful mixture of mischief and innocence and curiosity and charm and incipient knowing and almost visible potential coming into view.
Living with Master these days is a little like having one of those boychicks right here in the house. With each passing day, He wakes up from a years-long separation from the wonderful boy he must have been so very long ago. With each day that passes, He seems to feel better and be clearer -- and it is as if He is new born.
And yes, the Imp did get spanked. This morning. Not terribly intensely -- enough to give Him some stinginess and a bit of pink warmth. And then we switch and He spanks me, and the two of us revel in the pure, simple pleasure of knowing this about each other again. It is the very best thing ever. Ever.