kids

Oh No!

My delightful friend, Becky, shared a story about her simultaneous introduction to the birds and bees and graphic language. At the tender age of four, she was playing with little Jimmy next door. He showed her his prize package and asked to see hers. She thought it was weird and wanted no part of “it.”

After showing her his big news, he told her. “When you show somebody your penis, you are f—-ing!”

His mother got suspicious and showed up just in time to hear that.

She tore into her son and told Becky. I’m gonna tell your grandma what y’all were doing.”

The child was the type who preferred to tell on herself rather than have the neighbor tell on her. She rushed in crying to her grandma.

“Jimmy’s mama is gonna tell on me!”

“Why?” queried Grandma. “What did y’all do?”

“We were f—-ing.” shied boo-hooed.

Assuming the little ones had actually done the deed, Grandma went ballistic without investigating. She tore into the Becky and confined her to her room.

When Becky’s mom got home from work, Grandma met her at the door with the awful news.

Mom talked her down, telling her hey needed to talk to Becky. Happily, the situation was quickly cleared up and they learned there was nothing to worry about, except to make sure Becky knew not to play show and tell.

Getting Ready for the Majors

This is my nephew, Henry, an avid baseball fan.

The Saddest Christmas Ever

The December after I turned six years old, I hatched a plot. I’d leave a note for Santa asking to accompany him on his rounds. I felt sure if I asked nicely, he’d wake me up and take me along. though Mother assured me it wouldn’t happen. I laboriously wrote this note.

Dear Santa,

I have been good. Can I go with you ? I hate dolls. I want a BB gun and a blue bicycle. I love you.

Linda

About bedtime, Mother said she heard the jingle bells on Santa’s sleigh. I flew to the door to try to catch Santa but didn’t catch him. Mother sent me to bed since he wouldn’t come until I went to sleep. It took me forever to go to sleep. I was disappointed to wake up in the morning and find I’d been left at home.

We knew not to go in to see if Santa had come before waking our parents. Mother dragged out the anticipation by making coffee before we went to see what Santa had brought. When we were finally allowed in, Mother pointed out a note taped to TV screen, “Linda, did you think you could catch me?”

My parents laughed but I was devastated. Not only did Santa ditch me, he thought it was funny.

When I opened my presents, I got a life-sized baby doll that could pee its diaper. I threw it down and stomped my foot, “I hate dolls. I wanted a BB gun.” I got a spat and a warning to behave myself. Mother pointed out the biggest package under the tree with my name on it. I tore into it only to find a tin tea set with a Dutch boy and girl on it. I wanted to throw a fit but knew what that would get me.

Seeing my disappointment, Mother tried to distract me. “Here open this present from Grandma.” It was the twin of the doll that had already gotten me in trouble. My sister got a blue bicycle. I found out later that day my two boy cousins my age got BB guns.

The only thing that saved my Christmas was finding a big red rocking horse behind the tree. I loved it.

The only time I ever played with those accursed dolls was when my cousin Sue and I treated them to a funeral the next summer. My mother was a slow learner. I got a doll the next two Christmases as well.

Gnawful Cousin

My brother weighed ten pounds at birth. He was born in the car on the way to the hospital but that’s a story for another day. My cousin Eddie, a colicky, pint-sized baby, was about four months younger. One afternoon when Billy was about five months old and Eddie about one month, Mother and Aunt Bonnie put both babies on a blanket on the living room floor while they had coffee in the kitchen. Billy cooed and played happily while Eddie wailed incessantly, as usual. When they finished their coffee, the mothers went to check on the babies. It turns out Poor Eddie was crying for a good reason. Husky Billy who was teething had maneuvered himself around where he could gnaw on Eddie’s skinny little leg. The poor baby’s leg was red from ankle to above the knee.

Mother’s Helper

Mother could be very hard to please. I can remember long before I was old enough to start start school, I noticed the cat pooped in the baby bed. Being the helpful industrious type, I decided to be a big girl take care of it myself, of course, I couldn’t take a chance on touching it, so I hurried in the kitchen and got Mother’s cooking tongs. Mother was unfailingly selfish about sharing her kitchen implements, as I’d learned to my sorrow when she found her rolling pin and mixing bowls in the sandpile.

This was different. I was helping!Even though I’d only been able to get my hands on them a few times, I expertly tonged up the poop and dropped it in the commode, returning the handy tongs to the kitchen drawer.

All would have been well, had I not needed praise. I called Mother to see the poop floating in the toilet and told her how I’d helped her.

She hit the ceiling. “You used my kitchen tongs to pick up cat stuff! Where are they?” Proud of myself, I assured her I’d put them back in the drawer where I’d found them.

She was impossible to please. She paddled my fanny and sent me on my way. Life is hard!

Christmas Revelations

We’d put away all the Christmas decorations weeks before.   We’d finally gotten our eighteen month old, John, to bed after several unsuccessful attempts and had collapsed, totally whipped.  Meanwhile, he’d  been entertaining himself rummaging quietly through a dresser drawer we’d thought inaccessible.  After a few minutes, he toddled into the living room victorious dragging garland, an ornament in each hand, announcing, “Santa Claus is coming to town.  I’ll be damned!”

Bad News Travels Fast!

Linda First GradeIn our rural community, we didn’t have phones till the early sixties.Only one or two mothers in the whole community worked.  Most families had only one car, so women were most likely home unless they walked to a near neighbor’s home for coffee accompanied by their infants and toddlers.  The point of this story is, when we got in trouble at school, the news often beat us home.  I don’t know how, but Mother invariably knew what I’d gotten in trouble for.
I suspect my older sister may have ratted me out, or the teacher sent a sneaky note home by her, but news always got home.  A few times, my mother heard through the grapevine.  It was certainly a different day and time.  Should my offense be minor, Mother took care of the problem, but if it were a matter heinous enough to warrant a note or invitation to a conference at school, I had to deal with Daddy.  That was never nice.  It would have been so much happier for me if my parents had held the teacher’s attitude or methods responsible, but alas, the judgment came right back to me.

Hard Time Marrying Part 2

“These young’uns is got scarlet fever. You ain’t leaving ‘em for this town to deal with. Jist take ‘em on back where you come from.”  The sheriff steadfastly refused responsibility for the children.

“But they ain’t mine.  I don’t even know their names.”

“Ya married their ma ago ain’t cha?  Then they’s yourn!  I hate it for ‘ya, but I ain’t gonna letcha leave ‘em here to sicken the whole town.  We’ll getcha some provisions to help out, but that’s it.  Ya got to git out’a town with them sick young’uns.  Pull this wagon out to that mesquite tree ‘n  I’ll git ‘cha some supplies.

Morosely, Joe waited on the edge of the sorry town as a wagon pulled up.  Shouting at him to stay back, a gimpy old geezer rolled off a barrel of flour, putting a burlap bag of beans beside it, and piling a few cans of milk, a bolt of material, and a few paper wrapped parcels on top of it.  He went on his way, leaving Joe to wrestle them into the wagon the best he could, stowing them so they wouldn’t crush the burning children.

Joe felt as low as he’d ever had, pulling up to his rough cabin. He knew nothing about children or the sick.   Maybe these poor wretches wouldn’t suffer too long.

A Glimpse into Historical Language: Dialect Words Explained

When I was a kid I was fascinated by the dialect of those of my grandparent’s generation. I am referring to family members born between 1884 and 1887. Their language was unique and intriguing. Manners were much stricter then and children were forbidden to interrupt. I learned to listen very carefully and inferred meanings from their use in context. Should I not be able to interpret, save the word until I could ask my parents. Language was intoxicating. I’ll share some from my collection below, used in context, the way I learned them.

Airy: “Airy(any)one of them tablecloths will be fine.”

Nairy: “Nairy(neither) one of them is worth the powder it would take to blow them away.”

Na’arn: Ain’t na’arn(none)of them gals acting right.”

Et: “I et(ate) all I could hold.”

Het: “She got mighty het up(angry) when her man run off!”

Heared: I just couldn’t believe it when I heared(heard) it!“

Holp: Holp(help) me with

Holpt: He holpt(helped) us quite a bit.”

Fur piece: It’s a fur piece(quite a distance) over there.”

Tolerable: I’m feeling tolerable.” (not well, but better)

Fitten: That slop ain’t fitten(good enough) for the dogs.”

Thanks for: Thanks for(please pass)the beans.”

Cyarn: That place smells like cyarn.” (Carrion)

Pert’near: He ought to know better than that! He’s pert’near (pretty near) grown!”

Young’uns: They got all them young’uns(children) to feed.”

Chillun: All their chillun(children) eats dirt.”

Farred up: Too late for talking. He’s all farred upready to fight.”

Passel: “Oh, they got a passel(a lot) of hounds under their porch.”