My mom had a paddle board. When it did not have the intended disciplinary effect, she asked my dad to put big holes in it so that the paddle would move faster due to less air resistance. Sadly, her physics conjecture was right. The paddle was faster and hurt more.
But in the end, the paddle broke on my brother’s behind, perhaps because of the holes. Or perhaps because he had a really good lickin’ comin’.
Your mom had a streak of engineering genius not unlike those NASA “Hidden Numbers” gals.
(caution:sad story) My last foster father thought if he whupped me enough I’d turn into the stupid jock redneck he always wanted. What it did is toughen me to the point of separating pain from consciousness - and empathy for others got chucked, too.
So when I finally got large enough to kick his ass they put me in the state orphanage, which used the paddle only when their demerit system wasn’t effective (a good strategy).
One dorm supervisor broke a paddle on me out of frustration...didn’t like me laughing. That weasel was a gym rat so it really damaged his self-esteem. That really DID hurt him more than it hurt me.
I eventually straightened up and regained sympathy for others but that was a case where too much was too much.