Crime: When I was 6, my sister and I thought it would be funny to throw strands of spaghetti at the kitchen ceiling.
Punishment: Eat dried spaghetti scraped off ceiling (fair enough).

Crime: At the ages of 6-8, I didn't have much of an appetite because my hilarious dad would gross me out by telling me that my kidney beans were cockroaches with the legs cut off, my rice was maggots and my lima beans were 'pus pockets'.
Punishment: When the egg timer dinged, if there was still food on my plate I'd get yelled at and wacked with the belt so I'd try to cram cold food down as fast as I could. Sometimes the combination of tears, mucus and cold food in my throat would make me gag so occasionally I had to clean up the puke and start on a fresh plate of food. Once there was a little puke still on my plate but I was too upset to get the words out to tell him so I had to eat a little puke too <sad trombone>. I was about 10-20 pounds underweight until the age of 30 and to this day I eat way too fast without realizing it. My 2 year old tells me to slow down.

Crime: When I was 5 I hadn't fully mastered potty training and I'd do this weird thing where I'd wiggle my butt to crimp off a hanger-on turd. My dad walked in once when I was doing this. He thought it was hilarious and told my mom and sister about it. I stopped asking to use the toilet and I'd hold it in for as much as a week until I'd just crap myself.

Punishment: My hilarious dad threatened to thumbtack my dirty underwear to the front entrance bulletin board with my name written on it. HEY-oh!

...we had fun.