"Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot." She looked truly contrite, but nervous as well.
"Let's eat dinner first. Timmy is hungry." Karen offered to feed him, assuming we were leaving but we told her of our forced change in plans, which made her feel worse.
"We'll discuss it after we've eaten," I said.
The meal was far quieter than our usual family dinner. Even Timmy knew Karen was due to be punished and said nothing. Karen ate sparingly with her eyes cast down. When we finished, she looked from me to her father and I could see in her eyes she was thinking of his threat the prior evening. Neither of us said anything to the contrary. I asked Karen to remain in the living room with her father while I put Timmy to bed. It was long after his allotted time.
I returned downstairs to find father and daughter seated silently, with Paul reading a magazine and Karen with her hands in her lap, biting her lip. She looked up when I approached and sat next to her.
We discussed responsibility and concern for other's needs. I was convinced she truly forgot her promised obligation in her excitement when she and her fellow soon-to-be-actors had celebrated with cokes. Paul contributed too, recognizing it was a mistake but an important oversight.
"I know you're sorry, but we have unfinished business," I said. "Tell me what it is."
She took a moment before answering. "I deserve to be punished. Is Dad going to . . . ?"
"No, Karen. We told you that will no longer happen here. That's a promise we intend to keep."
She turned to her father. "But last night you said . . ."
"That just came out. I apologize. It was an empty threat. I'll never strike you again; just as Sarah and I promised."
"But I deserve . . ."
"To be punished," I finished for her. "And you will be. Here's what will happen." I couldn't read Karen's reaction. Was she relieved or more concerned about what might follow? I then informed Karen her room was off limits until tomorrow after school.
"You have the run of the rest of the downstairs but you can't enter your room, for anything."
"Where will I sleep?"
"You'll sleep on the living room sofa. There's an afghan in the front hall closet and there's a toss pillow."
"I'll have to get my PJ's and stuff upstairs."
"No. Just make do."
"Sleep in my clothes?"
"Your choice. You have your soccer outfit in your gym bag."
"It's all sweaty." I shrugged. "Sarah! What about clothes for tomorrow?"
"I'll choose them in the morning and bring them down."
"My computer is up there and my diary. You know I write in my diary every day!"