All along the way.

When I was a little child I used to think that the only thing keeping us from getting spanked by our parents was the fear of the pain that would accompany the spanking. We would not care for any other reproach, but a spanking was out of the question.
As children we were very naughty, like all children are. But our trysts ended with the stern warning of a spanking.
We liked to play outside and would often forget the time when we had to be back home. We played, savouring every moment of that juvenile pleasure that conveniently eludes us now. And we did not realise that we had taken liberties with our curfew till we heard my uncle yelling our names in the colony. That moment, that precise point in time when we heard our names, saw us like frightened deer caught in the sudden glare of headlights of an oncoming vehicle.
And then, heaven knows, how we ran back home, taking the most out of the way route so that our uncle did not catch us.
We would be at home by the time our uncle returned and we would try and act indifferent to the whole thing. As if nothing had happened, and as if whatever was going on did not have the slightest inclusion of our deeds. We did it not because we were professional con artistes. We feared the spanking.

Today, a decade later, things are no different. Only the consequences are different. We do not get spanked anymore, but as the mistakes grow so do the punishments. We are not bound to be spanked everytime we overshoot the deadline, or we do not get spanked if we do not return home on time, but life has its own ways and means to get to us. We outgrow the spanking, we outgrow the scoldings, not because they become non-existant as we grow, but because we have bigger things to fear. Bigger punishments to face, bigger follies to commit....