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And, courtesy of Mom, a few more stories. Where they include other people's names, I've edited them a bit, but otherwise they're intact. Most of these I've selected because they're funny in their own right, but one or two are here as much because I think they are very accurate about who I am, as because they're funny.
The visit to the emergency room to get the embedded earring out of your earlobe. You talked, of course, the entire time. As we were leaving, accompanied by one of the nurses into the hallway, she looked at me and said, "Does she talk this much all the time?" I told her pretty much, and got back "How do you stand it?" - This after you wouldn't quit talking and let her go back to work, so I told you to say "Goodnight, nurse". Which you promptly did, then wheeled and headed for the door, thus leaving us (short) conversation room.
(As a note, yes, the earring is a separate story in its own right, though it's more sick than funny. If people want to see that sort of thing, I may post it another time.)
--
After four or five evenings with a babysitter after we moved here, you told me you didn't "like being sat on". You were tenacious, so we went through how to call 911, turn off the power, the pump, and to call the C's if anything you couldn't handle came up, etc. The first time we went out, we felt a little jittery. You didn't. When we got home, all was well, and you were never "sat on" again. You were all of seven years old. I am still clinging to the hope that the B's believed us when they asked whether L hadn't done well as a sitter, and we explained it wasn't L, it was you.
--
When you were about five, we gave you an allowance, since you'd learned to make change. You were a real skinflint! I still remember going into the pharmacy downtown and you - freshly armed with a whole dollar bill - looking at matchbox cars, and the pharmacist, doubled over his glass counter and trying for *silent* laughter, after a rather loud "They want *69 cents* for *this* ?!
--
Your determination to get me to fly right: Not long after we moved into this house, you came up to me in the kitchen and told me that I should have arranged the cupboards and drawers differently - stove things closer to the stove, etc. I thought about the different ideas you came up with, and had to admit you were right. So I said so, then added, "But I'm not going to do it." You asked why not, and I told you it had taken me six months to open a drawer and pull out a pancake turner without having to look, and I didn't want to do that all over again. You thought for a little bit, then said, "I guess I can understand that." End of discussion. You would have been about 4 3/4 years old then.
--
Your focus on getting something out of whatever-is-there: We'd given you Speak 'n Spell and Speak 'n Math. You played with them a little, but they didn't really last very long... We took them along on a visit to your grandparents in Texas. You were playing with the Speak 'n Math (maybe I should say toying with it) while my Dad and I were sitting around. I'd told him you were bored with the thing, and he said I was nuts - all your answers were wrong! Well, yes... the first problem you gave an answer one more than the correct answer. The second one was two more, the third three... until you got to ten. The next one was nine off, then eight... He didn't believe, to the end of his life, that you knew the math that day, even after I pointed this out. (I'm not sure just when or if he decided I was an overfond, credulous mother, but that may well have been the day!) But I don't really think you found much to keep you really busy during that trip.
--
Mom also brings up the "banana story" but does not tell it. I know this one only from having heard it so many times, but.... When I was still a baby, my parents went to visit my grandparents in Texas. Mom and Dad needed to continue into Mexico to sort some stuff out there as far as his parents, who lived there at the time, but they left me with my grandparents in the states. And I was, generally, not used to being separated from Mom. I was the only child; and she stayed at home with me. Most of the other children of the family got used to being handed off to aunts, uncles, grandparents...because they were geographically closer.
I never did. I could deal (sort of) with other people if Mom was around, but...
I spent a lot of time screaming and fussy while my parents were away. And grandma was sort of at her wits' end; she wanted, needed, time away from the screamer. Grandfather said, I'll watch her.
She wasn't sure, but he said sure, it'd be fine.
So she left. Returned hours later, and asked how it had gone.
"Oh, we got along fine. Every time she started to cry, I stuffed a banana in her mouth, and she was happy again!"
Well, happy, or too busy chewing to cry....
The visit to the emergency room to get the embedded earring out of your earlobe. You talked, of course, the entire time. As we were leaving, accompanied by one of the nurses into the hallway, she looked at me and said, "Does she talk this much all the time?" I told her pretty much, and got back "How do you stand it?" - This after you wouldn't quit talking and let her go back to work, so I told you to say "Goodnight, nurse". Which you promptly did, then wheeled and headed for the door, thus leaving us (short) conversation room.
(As a note, yes, the earring is a separate story in its own right, though it's more sick than funny. If people want to see that sort of thing, I may post it another time.)
--
After four or five evenings with a babysitter after we moved here, you told me you didn't "like being sat on". You were tenacious, so we went through how to call 911, turn off the power, the pump, and to call the C's if anything you couldn't handle came up, etc. The first time we went out, we felt a little jittery. You didn't. When we got home, all was well, and you were never "sat on" again. You were all of seven years old. I am still clinging to the hope that the B's believed us when they asked whether L hadn't done well as a sitter, and we explained it wasn't L, it was you.
--
When you were about five, we gave you an allowance, since you'd learned to make change. You were a real skinflint! I still remember going into the pharmacy downtown and you - freshly armed with a whole dollar bill - looking at matchbox cars, and the pharmacist, doubled over his glass counter and trying for *silent* laughter, after a rather loud "They want *69 cents* for *this* ?!
--
Your determination to get me to fly right: Not long after we moved into this house, you came up to me in the kitchen and told me that I should have arranged the cupboards and drawers differently - stove things closer to the stove, etc. I thought about the different ideas you came up with, and had to admit you were right. So I said so, then added, "But I'm not going to do it." You asked why not, and I told you it had taken me six months to open a drawer and pull out a pancake turner without having to look, and I didn't want to do that all over again. You thought for a little bit, then said, "I guess I can understand that." End of discussion. You would have been about 4 3/4 years old then.
--
Your focus on getting something out of whatever-is-there: We'd given you Speak 'n Spell and Speak 'n Math. You played with them a little, but they didn't really last very long... We took them along on a visit to your grandparents in Texas. You were playing with the Speak 'n Math (maybe I should say toying with it) while my Dad and I were sitting around. I'd told him you were bored with the thing, and he said I was nuts - all your answers were wrong! Well, yes... the first problem you gave an answer one more than the correct answer. The second one was two more, the third three... until you got to ten. The next one was nine off, then eight... He didn't believe, to the end of his life, that you knew the math that day, even after I pointed this out. (I'm not sure just when or if he decided I was an overfond, credulous mother, but that may well have been the day!) But I don't really think you found much to keep you really busy during that trip.
--
Mom also brings up the "banana story" but does not tell it. I know this one only from having heard it so many times, but.... When I was still a baby, my parents went to visit my grandparents in Texas. Mom and Dad needed to continue into Mexico to sort some stuff out there as far as his parents, who lived there at the time, but they left me with my grandparents in the states. And I was, generally, not used to being separated from Mom. I was the only child; and she stayed at home with me. Most of the other children of the family got used to being handed off to aunts, uncles, grandparents...because they were geographically closer.
I never did. I could deal (sort of) with other people if Mom was around, but...
I spent a lot of time screaming and fussy while my parents were away. And grandma was sort of at her wits' end; she wanted, needed, time away from the screamer. Grandfather said, I'll watch her.
She wasn't sure, but he said sure, it'd be fine.
So she left. Returned hours later, and asked how it had gone.
"Oh, we got along fine. Every time she started to cry, I stuffed a banana in her mouth, and she was happy again!"
Well, happy, or too busy chewing to cry....
