Super mad!

Every time I put Ryker down for a nap or bedtime, we read two books, say prayers and then sing two songs: "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and "You are my Sunshine."
Today at nap time, I sang Sunshine real drawn out and "blue-sy." He was smiling very wide and giggling. After verse one, he pulls his thumb out of his mouth very deliberately and says, "You're not my sunshine."
"Really? Why not?" I ask.
"Because you're super mad at me," he says.
Rewind to last night. Ryker was so bad at church. He was trying to shove pumpkin pie in my mouth, yelling and interrupting when a woman was trying to talk to me. He tried to get out of his chair for a third dessert. I told him two was enough and grabbed him before he could run off. He was fighting my hold and smearing pumpkin pie ALL over me (unbeknowst to me). I threatened him with a spanking if he didn't sit down in his seat like a good boy. He didn't sit down, so I had no other option. Off to the bathroom we went and I pulled down his pants for a nice stinging spanking.
Now, I don't spank very often. When I do, I give a warning first, and I let them know right before I do it that it's coming. Afterwards we talk about why. Spankings really aren't effective with Ryker, so I'm not sure why I bother at all. Probably because I was hanging out at that dreadful place called "my wit's end" after just a few tense moments over pie.
So I give him one paddle with my hand. He pulls up his pants with big crockodile tears in his eyes. He's holding his bottom while he looks at me all sad-like and says, "That didn't hurt."
Grrrrrr. "OK. So I guess we'll be leaving now," I say.
Ouch. That hurt. He was NOT happy, and he let everyone at church know it.
"Noooooooo," Ryker yells. "I want to go with Daaaaaaaddy."
I tell Dan he is responsible for bringing Abby home and dart out of there as quickly and calmly as I can muster, despite the 40-pound "my Mommy is mean" alarm that sounding in my arms at full volume.
I put Ry in his booster seat, buckle him in and take a seat behind the wheel.
"I like this song," he says.
I turn off the music.
"Well too bad," I retort. "You don't get to enjoy anything you like the rest of the night. No books. No songs. Just PJs and bed for you!"
"OK, mommy," he says, sniffling. Wow...he's so much easier than his sister!
Then he starts talking to me like nothing happened.
I start to pull out of my parking space, then turn to him and say, "I'm not speaking to you all the way home. Mommy is super mad!"