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This is what I do instead of the lab that’s due in a couple of hours. Anyways, I think it’s time for us all to reveal those great stories that can only happen to the little child in all of us.
Here’s one from me: When I was in 1st grade or so (maybe 2nd, maybe kindergarten I’m not sure), my Grandparents were babysitting myself and my sister while my parents went out (I think to dinner and a movie). All night long I kept insisting that I wanted to hear the song were the lady burned up. My Grandfather couldn’t figure out what I meant, but my Dad has a very large collection of records so we started going through them all. Was it Rafi? No, not that one. Bluegrass? Nope. All night long we couldn’t figure it out (since at that age I had no communication skills) until finally we gave up. When my Dad got home later on my Grandfather asked him about, and my Dad says: “Ohh, right, well he means the immolation scene from Gotterdammerung.”
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My nickname as a child was Plug. Apparently, my Dad called me that often enough, when I was introduced to a business acquaintance and asked my name, I answered, "Pwuug."
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That is adorable. I'm more impressed with his dad.
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The one my dad likes to tell is of three-year-old Katie. She climbs into his lap one day, and says, "Daaddy." "What is it, T?" "Daaddy, when I get old, will you buy me diamonds and gold?" <pause>
"Where's your mother."
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I was known as the "bag lady" as a toddler because I was always carrying a bag (I had lots of purses, but it didn't have to be one of them; it could just be a plastic grocery bag for all I cared), and I would pick up toys, put them in the bag, and then leave the bag somewhere. When I later wanted whatever toy was in the bag and I didn't remember where I had put it, I'd scream until they found the correct bag for me. Anyway, when I was 2 or so, my dad asked me what I wanted for a snack, and I said "Bag cheese." After some contemplation, my dad figured out that I meant an individually wrapped slice of american cheese with a plastic wrapper-- a "bag". Ever since, it's been "bag cheese" to my family.
Then there's how I learned my colors (by 14 mos.) from Cindy Lauper's hair on MTV... I had half-sisters 10 and 13 years older than me.
I have cuter ones about my brother, like his first pun. He was 14 months old, and had a Costa Rican babysitter. She didn't speak very good English, and my parents were both fluent in Spanish, so they asked her to speak Spanish to Michael so that he would be modeled correct Spanish by her and correct English by the rest of the family instead of being confused by different pronunciations. My parents had fun teaching him words in both languages, reinforcing it first in English, then in Spanish. (To this day he soaks up languages like a sponge.) Anyway, he was 14 months old, and my mom was putting on his shoes. She said, "Zapatos. Zapatos." He tried, but couldn't say the whole word. "Patos," he said, "patos." Then he looked at my mom and grinned. "Quack, quack!" he said. ("Pato" is duck in Spanish, if you didn't know.) Posts: 21182 | Registered: Sep 2004
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(I remember posting this elsewhere, but hey - it's cute enough that it bears repeating )
I was three when my mother had my sister. Ellen (my sister) was four weeks late, so my grandparents were spending a lot of time with us - we were grandchildren #1 and soon-to-be-2 on that side of the family. My mom finally popped, but it was a long process and I had a cold and an ear infection. Since I was obviously not gonig to be let in to see anything, my grandparents took me out for ice cream. They, being clueless and from Milwaukee, left it up to me to choose our destination. I picked, but they quickly realized they had no idea where to go. I stepped in and gave perfect directions from the hospital downtown-ish to the cafe in the suburb where we lived. I obviously had priorities Posts: 3932 | Registered: Sep 1999
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I almost fogot the one about how I used to stand on the step-stool in front of the stove and stir whatever my dad was cooking and say, "When I grow up, I'm going to be a good cooker!" (I am, btw. )
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once, I decided I was going to run away. I think I was 5 or 6 at the time. I put my stuff animal Poppy into a tote bag and walked down the street singing "I'm going to Kennedy Airport" because I knew the airport was around there somewhere.
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Most of my stories are things people told me I did, but I don't remember doing. My aunt claims that I used to come to her house when I was very small, open the refrigerator door and ask, "Do you got anything that goes with mustard?"
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Once, when I was about three, my grandma was visiting from out-of-town and apparently I didn't like the shift in authority. After grandma got on to me for something (my mom was out of the room) I looked up at her through my eyebrows (a move that my daughter uses on me now, by the way) and growled, "You old hussy."
[Important to point out here that I say "hussy" as if it were spelled "huzzy."]
My grandmother stopped and looked at me, and asked, "What did you say?"
I said it again, with less volume but just as much anger: "You old huzzy."
My grandma put her hands on her hips and said, "Now I just want to be really sure I understood you and that you said what I think you said. WHAT did you say to me?"
Quieter now, but still angry: "You old huzzy."
"That's what I thought you said."
At this point my mom entered from the kitchen, heard my getting my butt spanked, and she turned around and walked back into the kitchen.
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I lived on a small farm growing up. The story goes that when I was 2, maybe three, I was admiring the newly hatched chicks with my mother. I was petting them nicely, then stood up, lifted my foot up and stomped on one, squashing it to death.
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i was born in Papua New Guinea and when i was 2 years old i only spoke Melanesian Pidgin... I was with my Chinese grandparents and freaked them out by repeating 'rousim' over and over again...to me it meant 'take off my sandals' but they thought i was calling them 'devil' in Chinese.
oh when i was about 5 my mum sat me down to explain the facts of life...apparently i listened to it all looked disturbed, then said "gross" and walked out.
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I don't know of any cute stories about me, but I remember one about my older sister.
(I don't think I was born yet).
She was probably about 2 or 3 or so -- and everyone was visiting grandma & grandpa at the farm. Grandma always had lots of cats around -- just regular barn cats. So everyone was talking and no one paid much attention when she suddenly said "Oooo! Pretty kitty cat!" and went over to pet the pretty black kitty with the white strip down the middle of the back
No, baths in tomato juice did NOT work.
They were just glad she didn't get bit or scratched -- seeing as how skunks out in the daytime are often rabid.
(note: skunks are extremely near-sighted. It is not unusual to be able to walk right up to one)
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There is a cassette tape of a two-year-old me singing kid's songs, each of which is followed by me saying, "Now I want the boy to do it." Apparently, I was completely convinced that the voice on the tape recorder (that they kept playing back for me) was a boy singing back the same things I had sung.
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Less cute, but still amusing...In the early 80s in Atlanta there was a string of serial killings of children (popularly known now as the Atlanta Child Murders). Kids would get kidnapped and then turn up dead. Well, I was 4 or so, and my parents and baby brother and I were in a toy store. They were ready to leave, but I didn't want to go. So, my father picked me up and started carrying me out--at which point I began screaming, "Help me, help me, somebody please help me!" They got a lot of very strange looks on their way out the door; I'm still surprised nobody stopped them.
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Here is the story of my first word, as told by my mother:
I was sitting in my high chair, messin' around with the remains of my breakfast (that's what we called it in Texas - messin' around) and my mom was helping herself to a cookie.
Suddenly, she says, I started saying something. She, being a first time mother, was very excited.
"What did you say?"
"Emmmmmee haaaaabit," I said in a sing songy, pleading voice.
"What was that?"
"Emmmmeeeee haaaaabit," I repeated, gesturing emphatically with my hand. "Emmy habit, emmy habit, emmy habit!"
Apparently, I really wanted her cookie and was motivated enough to construct my first sentence - "Let me have it!"
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In preschool, during naptime, I tested my theory that no sound would come out of my mouth if I plugged my ears. To test this theory, I screamed as loud as I could. I was honestly shocked and horrified when three teachers came over and reamed me out.
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When I was small, I was a very fat child, and I had this one shirt that was too small and it didn't quite cover my stomach. And Toretha said, "Jenny, you are SO FAT. You are SO FAT you can't even get your shirt on." To which I replied, "Ding dong, you're wrong. It's just a cute little Jenny belly."
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(This is the only thing I think I remember which qualifies as cute)
When I was little my father didn't come home until quite late so my brother my mother and I would eat dinner together, and do all sorts of crazy things. One of these things was recording mealtimes, then we'd play them back.
One of the recordings we must have been eating some meat with fatty bits on it, and my brother is talking about the fat and how he likes to take it off.
Then, in the background, I butt in, my mouth obviously full of pork fat or something and say loudly, "I like fat!" (munchmunchmunch)
EDIT: There is also cinefilm of me doing head-over-heels (or roly polys, as I call them) all the way across a grassy area of a stately home. It's not cute, specificially, but it's memorable.
One time around Christmas, my dad was recording myself and my 2 siblings (I have 3 now), asking what we want for Christmas. I was 3 at the time. While my sister was talking to the camera, I interrupted her, saying to my mom 'I wanna tuppet!'
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I remember this clearly, even though I wasn't quite two years old yet when it happened.
It was my first trip to Disneyland, with my mother, her sister, my two cousins, and Aintie (my cousins' aunt). So, we went on the Trip to the Moon ride, but Aintie couldn't go on it for some reason, so she stayed outside. They took us into the "spaceship" in preparation for the ride. But I was convinced that it wasn't "just a ride", but that we were, in fact, going to the moon. This disturbed me greatly, and I began to shout at the top of my lungs, "I'm sorry, but we can't go to the moon." Over and over and over, with increasing alarm. So, one of the ride workers had to come and take me out to stay with Aintie while the rest of our group (and the rest of the people on the ride) enjoyed the ride.
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How do you pronounce that, lma? I had a great-aunt (great-great?) that I called Ainnie, with a long A.
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Aintie (just my sort of phonetic spelling) was prounounced "ain't-e", with a long "e" at the end.
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Farmgirl, your story reminds me of a song I know.
Well, I thought it was a kitten with a stripe down its back, and it looked so pretty sittin', shiny white, shiny black, and I thought it'd like to play, so I grabbed it by the tail. Well, I think that I've been skunked, can you tell?
When I was two, my mom fell down the stairs. She was lying in a heap at the bottom when I came up to her and said, "Go right back up those stairs and come down on your feet, please, honey."
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I am told this sotry of me at age 5 or so; I don't remember it myself. It may be a family legend. At any rate, I had just started learning to count in different languages, and was trying to teach one of my friends to count in German :
- Eins, zwei, drei. - Eins, zweins, dreins. - No, no! 'Drei' as in 'tørr'! <-- Norwegian word meaning 'dry'.
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We have a video of my little brother at Easter one year - he was probably 3. He's wearing a little white suit and a lovely little boutonniere. My dad's friend - the loud kind who always ask kids dumb questions is running the video camera.
"You're looking pretty good there, Max." "Thanks." "Looks like you've got a suit, and some nice shoes." (he just smiles) "And that's a nice boutonniere." "I got a flower too!" (shows off his lapel)
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My parents tell me that when I was a toddler, I had a fear of parking lots. They would take me out of the car and try to put me down, but I screamed and lifted my legs up so that it was nearly impossible for my parents to set me on the ground. However, they discovered that they could put me on the painted lines that marked the parking spaces. From there I could walk along the lines to the sidewalk.
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When I was 7 my grandma was visiting and my mom made a pie with whipped cream on top. I said "This tastes as good as store bought!"
A story on my husband is that when he was three he came to his dad with his left shoe on his right foot and his right shoe on his left foot. His dad said "your shoes are on the wrong feet" and son says "No, these are my feet."
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My mother took a toddler me with her to talk with some friends. She continued to talk to her friends and I became bored. I started talking to her. She paid me little attention, just kept saying "Yes dear. Yes dear."
Suddenly I took a great big bite from her fingers. She screamed and almost dropped me. She grabbed me and in her most outraged motherly voice said, "DAN!!! Why did you bite your mother?"
In a confused and scared little voice I replied, "But Mommy, you said I could."
Confused, she looked up. Her friends were unsuccesfully trying not to laugh. "He's right Shirl. He asked if he could bite your fingers, and you said Yes Dear."
My mother paid better attention to me ever since.
Elizabeth--I did the same thing at a bowling alley day care my Grandmother was working at. Its fun to make your voice go away by sticking fingers in your ears.
Grandma's spank hard.
Finally, Yesterday--a Sasha story.
Sasha grabbed one of the books off of my book shelf and said he wanted it. I said no, its a grown up book. There are no pictures.
"I can read the words." "You can?" I am surprised, since he's 4. "What is this letter?" "Its a D" "No, its a C." Now I realize I could get in some parental teaching. I could be a teacher. How hard could it be. "What sound does a C make?" I ask.
He goes "Sssssssss". He's right, but this is "Clan of the Cave Bears" "Some times the C makes a kah sound." He looked at me like I was insane. C's can be hard, so I move to the next letter on the title. "What is this letter?" "Thats a number 1" "No, its an L" "No, its a 1" I look at the "l" and decide to give up. If I would have continued it would have been "Sonean of the Save Bears"
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When I was really young (pre-kindergarten) I went by "Bobby" instead of Robert. My family and I were eating a restaurant that called out the names of the customers when the food was ready for them to go pick up at the counter. Some customers name was "Bobby" so over the intercom came, "Bobby, your order is ready."
I looked at my mom and said, "Somebody's calling my name" in a really suspicious voice.
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And this one isn't about me, but is much much better.
When my little brother was around two or so, we (my mom, brother, and me) were eating at Braum's. When we got done, my mom stood up to start cleaning and let her eye's off of my brother for a little bit.
My brother, who has always been hungry, walked over to someone else's table, unwrapped a burger (the man had gone to get ketchup and stuff), and took a bite out of it.
My mom, being the responsible adult that she is, quickly wrapped the burger back up and rushed us out the door before anyone could notice.
The funniest part is what might have happened after we were gone ("Umm... Excuse me... Miss? There's a, uh, bite in my burger...")
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When my sister and I were little we would make "potion". In one of them we needed hair. So I deceided that I would cut her hair. He hair was in pig tails and I cut both of them off on the side of the elastic that was closest to her head. I don't think that anyone noticed for a couple of days. Although when we made potions later we used Barbie hair instead.
This one is just something I remember I don't know how funny it is. I leared to tie my shoes just before I turned 5. I thought that that was a good thing until my mom took me to get my immunizations. I thought she took me to get shots because I learned to tie my shoes. I was going to kindergarten.
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When I was 2 or 3 my uncle's family and ours went on a picnic together. My mother had made a cherry pie whose crust was, by all accounts exqusite--probably the best she'd ever made, according to the story. My uncle noticed that I was very carefully eating the pie filling while leaving the crust untouched. He asked me about it, and I apparently looked at him like he was a halfwit and said in very haughty tones "I don't eat the board."
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Shigosei: I was just about to say, "I know someone else who had to walk the white lines to the sidewalk," and then I remembered it was you that told me about that.
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Since I've told a Me story, I have to tell a Little Jesse story, just because it happened the other night and it's fresh in my mind. And cute.
A couple of nights ago we were driving to my husband's grandmother's house and my son kept turning every which way in his seat, like he was trying to see behind him. He would crane around back and forth in these weird contortions. I didn't say anything because I was hoping he would tell me what was going on.
Anyway, a minute later he said, "Mom! Why is the moon following us?" He sounded really agitated.
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When I was about five years old, I loved the song "Tender Shepherd", so I liked pretending I was a shepherd with sweet (yet imaginary...) sheep, and that my little curly Bichon Frise was a huge German shepherd.
I would occasionally take my imaginary herd out to the yard, but they mainly liked the basement. One day, I was watching TV in the basement together with my sheep, when my sister dared come in and step on my sheep! I screamed and yelled and cried, and my poor sister didn't understand what I was talking about. Finally my mother came down, shouted at me, told me that the sheep belong outside, and left me pouting for a week.
EDIT: Perhaps her shouting at me had something to do with my tantrum about my sister stepping on my long tail the week before.
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When I was very young, I was very independent and very stubborn (and, I suppose I still am ).
One day, while eating my dinner (as a toddler), it occured to me that I was eating with a spoon, while my parents were eating with forks. Having to be big and grown-up, I insisted on using a fork. For every meal. For about a week. Fork for my cheerios, fork for my soup, fork for my applesauce, etc. Eventually, I decided that spoons were ok for some foods.
Once, (when I was young - I don't know what age, but I must have been pretty small) I had gotten in trouble for something and was going to receive a spanking. One of my favorite phrases at the time was: "I will do it myself!", so I told my mom "I will do my spank myself!" Posts: 5879 | Registered: Apr 2001
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When one of my sisters was very small, no more than two or three, she came to our Sunday School Christmas pageant.
Mary and Joseph and the donkey came out, and the whole place was dead silent until she yelled out "MOMMY! Look at the moose!!"
She got glasses shotly thereafter.
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Another time, my two sisters were outside bickering when the younger came in, in tears. My mother told her to go tell the other "sticks and stones, okay?"
So she ran outside and bellowed, "Sticks and stones on your HEAD, Karen!" It wasn't quite what my mom had been hoping for.
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"Mommy, Bonnie (our dog) ate grass and threw up, but the cow eats grass all the time and doesn't throw up - how come?" Mommy explained everything about tummies, and how cows had four of them.
Mom and Dad are playing a simpler version of "I spy" with three-year-old me.
Dad: "What grey, with a very long trunk, and can fly?" Mom: "Don't teach her unreal facts in these games, it'll get her confused. Sweety, Elephants can't fly. Dumbo is only a story."
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I have to tell one about my little guy. He was asking for something I had already told him he couldn't have and said "Nope, sorry charlie". He got very upset and indignant and said quite firmly "I not charlie I Bwigam (brigham)". Now from time to time I'll say no to something and he'll grin and say "call me charlie" He is very name oriented. Likewise when I told his little cousin "sorry charlie" he said to me "She not charlie she Lekie (Lexie)" He's 2 1/2.
Once when my mom was sick during her pregnancy I cooked a roast chicken for dinner. My dad had put it in the fridge to thaw out when he went to work. I decided to be helpful. They wondered what happened to the chicken until, two days later, they detected an odd odor in the house. They followed the scent to my play oven in the toy room and discovered that the chicken was "done". I think I was about 4 or 5 at the time. I cook a much better chicken now
[ January 19, 2005, 04:44 PM: Message edited by: Wendybird ]
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Anyways, I think it’s time for us all to reveal those great stories that can only happen to the little child in all of us. ![[Smile]](smile.gif)
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An ice-cream-aholic at that tender age!![[Wink]](wink.gif)
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Hussy!
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