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I actually have a bad behaviour story from my own childhood.
This I will remember for the rest of my life. My parents and I were travelling in the north of England, I was about four.
We were in the dining room of a local hotel and I had a chocolate milkshake in front of me and mud on the soles of my boots. At first I started blowing into my straw, the bubbles of milk in my shake gradually rose to a cresendo not unlike the sound of a cappucino steamer. Growing bored I then began picking at the mud on the sole of my boot, proudly displaying mud on the tip of my finger for all patrons to see. My parents became increasingly mortified.
Eventually my father took action and dragged me up the stairs in order to spank me. My hellish cries as we went up the stairs were something like "PLEASE DON'T HIT ME!!!!". Undoubtedly every single person in the establishment heard my banshee shreiking. To this day I am certain that my plaintive yells embarrased my father more than the spanking ever hurt me.
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