more of my favorite childhood memories
Janah E., Guest Contributor
Janah shares a couple more side-splitting childhood memories with us! See more here.
We moved to a new house in a sprawling rural area when I was about 19-months old. My mother says her washing machine was in the basement. She was terrified that I would fall down the steep concrete stairs while she was hauling laundry up and hanging it on the clothes line. She solved her dilemma by tying a rope to my waist and securing the other end to the clothesline.
On this particular day, she came up the steps and around the corner with another large basket of laundry and glanced up the line expecting to see her busy toddler. To her terror, I had escaped. All she could find of me were the training pants I had lost when I wiggled out of the rope. She dropped her basket and took off frantically retracing her steps, then running all over our huge farm yard to see if I was behind a tree or under a bush. I was nowhere in sight. She was debating about calling for help when a car carrying her new neighbor from up the road pulled into the driveway and asked if she was missing a little cream and brown puppy.
At first she replied, “No, I don’t own a puppy.” She was anxious to continue her search for me immediately, but wondered if it were possible that I had been mistaken for a puppy. She thought it just might be, as I was very tan and, by then, wearing not a stitch of clothes. The neighbor had said the "puppy" was in the ditch just up the road.
Mom took off like a mother bear after an errant cub. When she found the “puppy” and discovered it was me, she was, at once, relieved and furious. She cut a little weed and switched my bare bottom all the way back home. Needless to say, I never wandered from the yard again after that. I am sure this was not funny to any of us at the time. However, with the added benefit of many years of parenting myself, I now find it amusing.
My mom has taken great glee in sharing this little story with: first, my new husband, then later, with all my children over the years. I am sure this is one of those little stories that my children will tell their own grandchildren. I thought I would include it here for your enjoyment as well.
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When I was a child and television-watching was a new evening pastime, we all snuggled up under blankets and watched television. My mother and father sat in recliners and all of us children sat on a very long sofa. One night mom started whispering to those around her and pointing very slowly to her feet. There sitting on the footrest of the chair was a small mouse. We all just sat and stared in amazement as it watched TV. The next night it did the same thing. When it was done, it climbed back down her afghan to the floor and ran underneath the chair. I really don’t know whatever happened to the mouse—whether mom got rid of it or what. But it was amazing to see a wild field-mouse climb up her afghan, lie on her foot rest, and watch TV with her.
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One time, when my mom and dad left my oldest brother in charge of his five younger siblings and went to a neighboring town for their short weekly date, something happened that will live on in infamy.
Each of us—except for my oldest sister—tried very hard to be good, as we had each been promised a small bag of M & M’s of our very own if we were.
At that point in time, we raised guppies in a tank in the living room. My naughty sister really enjoyed developing her talent of twirling two batons at once. Despite the fact that she had been told repeatedly not to twirl her batons in the house, this day she was doing it anyway. She refused to stop when my brother told her to.
Suddenly, she hit the guppy tank, busting it. Guppies, gravel and water seemed to explode everywhere at once. My brother ran and got a gallon pitcher half full of water and bowls and big spoons for each of us. He posted my younger brother, Daniel, as the look-out at the window facing the driveway by sitting him high on the back of the chair so he could see out. Then he set the rest of us to work catching guppies.
Before we could catch them all, Daniel yelled that our parents had pulled in the driveway. This caused each of us to re-double our efforts scooping those guppies up and dumping them into the cereal bowls of water, then running those tiny fish over to the pitcher of water. We looked as if we were having some strange relay race.
This is the scene our parents came home to that evening. I will never forget the shock on their faces as they watched us crawling around the floor, amid the gravel and broken glass chasing flopping little fish and reaching under chairs with silver spoons to retrieve them all. Mother did not say a word, she just silently went and got her Rainbow vacuum and started sucking up water, and sometimes gravel, out of the carpet.
Each of us, except for the twirling sister who got a spanking instead, received candy that day, but not until every single tiny guppy was safely swimming in the water pitcher and all the tiny pieces of aquarium gravel were picked up.
None of us had dared to murmur about the extra work though, because we knew there was a bag of M & M’s at the end of the job.
My mom now smiles when she re-tells this family story and adds, “In those days, my six children would do just about anything to earn a little bag of candy.”
On this particular day, she came up the steps and around the corner with another large basket of laundry and glanced up the line expecting to see her busy toddler. To her terror, I had escaped. All she could find of me were the training pants I had lost when I wiggled out of the rope. She dropped her basket and took off frantically retracing her steps, then running all over our huge farm yard to see if I was behind a tree or under a bush. I was nowhere in sight. She was debating about calling for help when a car carrying her new neighbor from up the road pulled into the driveway and asked if she was missing a little cream and brown puppy.
At first she replied, “No, I don’t own a puppy.” She was anxious to continue her search for me immediately, but wondered if it were possible that I had been mistaken for a puppy. She thought it just might be, as I was very tan and, by then, wearing not a stitch of clothes. The neighbor had said the "puppy" was in the ditch just up the road.
Mom took off like a mother bear after an errant cub. When she found the “puppy” and discovered it was me, she was, at once, relieved and furious. She cut a little weed and switched my bare bottom all the way back home. Needless to say, I never wandered from the yard again after that. I am sure this was not funny to any of us at the time. However, with the added benefit of many years of parenting myself, I now find it amusing.
My mom has taken great glee in sharing this little story with: first, my new husband, then later, with all my children over the years. I am sure this is one of those little stories that my children will tell their own grandchildren. I thought I would include it here for your enjoyment as well.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When I was a child and television-watching was a new evening pastime, we all snuggled up under blankets and watched television. My mother and father sat in recliners and all of us children sat on a very long sofa. One night mom started whispering to those around her and pointing very slowly to her feet. There sitting on the footrest of the chair was a small mouse. We all just sat and stared in amazement as it watched TV. The next night it did the same thing. When it was done, it climbed back down her afghan to the floor and ran underneath the chair. I really don’t know whatever happened to the mouse—whether mom got rid of it or what. But it was amazing to see a wild field-mouse climb up her afghan, lie on her foot rest, and watch TV with her.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
One time, when my mom and dad left my oldest brother in charge of his five younger siblings and went to a neighboring town for their short weekly date, something happened that will live on in infamy.
Each of us—except for my oldest sister—tried very hard to be good, as we had each been promised a small bag of M & M’s of our very own if we were.
At that point in time, we raised guppies in a tank in the living room. My naughty sister really enjoyed developing her talent of twirling two batons at once. Despite the fact that she had been told repeatedly not to twirl her batons in the house, this day she was doing it anyway. She refused to stop when my brother told her to.
Suddenly, she hit the guppy tank, busting it. Guppies, gravel and water seemed to explode everywhere at once. My brother ran and got a gallon pitcher half full of water and bowls and big spoons for each of us. He posted my younger brother, Daniel, as the look-out at the window facing the driveway by sitting him high on the back of the chair so he could see out. Then he set the rest of us to work catching guppies.
Before we could catch them all, Daniel yelled that our parents had pulled in the driveway. This caused each of us to re-double our efforts scooping those guppies up and dumping them into the cereal bowls of water, then running those tiny fish over to the pitcher of water. We looked as if we were having some strange relay race.
This is the scene our parents came home to that evening. I will never forget the shock on their faces as they watched us crawling around the floor, amid the gravel and broken glass chasing flopping little fish and reaching under chairs with silver spoons to retrieve them all. Mother did not say a word, she just silently went and got her Rainbow vacuum and started sucking up water, and sometimes gravel, out of the carpet.
Each of us, except for the twirling sister who got a spanking instead, received candy that day, but not until every single tiny guppy was safely swimming in the water pitcher and all the tiny pieces of aquarium gravel were picked up.
None of us had dared to murmur about the extra work though, because we knew there was a bag of M & M’s at the end of the job.
My mom now smiles when she re-tells this family story and adds, “In those days, my six children would do just about anything to earn a little bag of candy.”
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.