My House Rules

We had a bunch of house rules. Some were followed and others not so much. We were spanked as kids sometimes, but the biggest threat of all was the unhappy-face paddle. Reincarnated from a paddle ball, my mom drew a sad face on it with a thick black sharpie, complete with tears. I don't know if my mom knew those were symbolic gangsta murder tears but they certainly got the message across either way. When we were bad, the threat of "don't make me get out the unhappy-face paddle" was all we needed to hear to straighten up. I don't think it was ever actually used though. I wish we still had it; I would hang it on my wall.
We also had the classic "wait until your father gets home" and "1...2...". 3 never actually materialized. Whether from us smartening up or if my mom didn't want to have to follow through with the mystery that happened after 3, I don't know.
We would always try to run when we knew a spank was coming. My dad was good at catching us by the arm as we tried to run by, and we were pretty good at crying before he ever touched us. Fear and threats seem to be the most effective parenting techniques.

Rules:
- Dinner at 5:30 sharp
- No individually packaged snacks. Strictly for school lunches only
- Ask before eating anything that wasn't healthy
- Must split 2 pops between the three of us
- Don't eat the chocolate chips or the baking chocolate
- no colouring on the fire place
- no smushing cheese slices under the coffee table
- Don't walk up the wrong side of the banister
- don't jump on the furniture

That's all I can think of for now. I'm sure there were many more.

My household was also very egalitarian. Treats were split equally between us...right down to the mm of pop or meniscus curve of chips.
The only fluctuation for this rules worked in my favour. Neither Trevor or Sarah were "activities" people, so I got to go to all the Brownie and Girl Guide camps, do all the swimming/skating/dance classes I wanted to. I never really felt that "forgotten middle child" thing. I was pretty demanding as I recall.

When Trevor was 8, his allowance was x and his bedtime was y. I could also expect x and y when I turned 8. That was a rhythmic progression until we were teenagers. All of a sudden those rules didn't apply any more because I was a girl. My curfew stayed early despite me pointing out that I was better able to handle myself better than Trevor should I get into an altercation. I also tried to spin the angle that Trevor didn't often use his curfew and that I should be able to use his overage. No dice. Eventually I wised up and started telling them when I'd be home instead of vice versa. Cell phones had entered the picture by then as well, which might have helped my cause.