I got a little “nudge” from DD this morning, asking when I was going to write a new post. Hmmm. Why does the phrase “the pot calling the kettle black” come to mind? Any of you who read her blog know that she doesn’t always post daily herself, but, of course, her “sainted” mother would never mention that — unless provoked.
Soooo, because I am busy writing a short story for my writing class and haven’t had time to come up with an idea for a post, and in order to appease my “fan,” I’m just going to do some free-form thinking about my Daughter Divine, and see what we get. Ready?
* She was always a verbal person. She had an early love of words, not necessarily pronounced correctly. When she was excited about going to school, she would say, “I can’t wait until I get to go to Sk-U-ool!” She called spagetti “pissgetti” and, for some reason, she loved the sound of the word lasagna. She would go around saying, “I want la-ZAAAA-n-ya.” So, because she kept saying that, I finally made some lasagna (not one of my routine meals — too labor intensive). Guess what? She didn’t like it. More fun to say than eat, apparently. Of course, that did change when she got older; she did eventually come to love lasagna. And, it’s a good thing since she’s married to an Italian.
* When DD was very little she was terrified of people in big funny costumes like Easter Bunnies, Santa Claus or the Hanna Barbera characters at Kings Island where we sometimes vacationed.
One time right before Easter when she was about two, I took her and her brother to the children’s shoe store to buy them shoes. The store was pretty much one large, long room and when we got there the whole room was packed with children and their parents. The front door was at one end of the long room, at the top of a short staircase, and an “Employees Only” door was at the other end of the room.
Just after we walked in the front door and were still standing at the top of the steps while I scanned the room for a place for us to sit, the door at the other end of the room opened and the Easter Bunny walked out and started talking to children. Because it was a verrrry long room, EB wasn’t reallly in DD’s “space” but that didn’t keep her from FREAKING OUT when she saw him!!! One minute I was holding a happy little girl in my arms, and the next minute, she was hysterical and clinging to me like a cheap nylon dress with a bad case of static. And, of course, as soon as she started wailing in pure terror (it was almost like we were on a stage, because we were still at the top of the steps — so, her voice echoed loudly through the room), her screaming seemed like it ignited the other children in the room like a spark igniting dry leaves, and instantly, the whole place became a room full of crying, hysterical children. We immediately left (just one step ahead of someone who would have asked us to leave, I imagine), and immediately DD calmed down — the “threat” having passed.
We went back another day and, thank goodness, the “evil” EB wasn’t around, so we actually got to buy shoes that time. And, they must not have recognized us, because they didn’t throw us out on our “ears!”
* Mentioning King’s Island characters reminds me that the first time we went there on vacation, and it was the first time DD had stayed in a hotel, she was fascinated by the fact that we would leave our hotel room in the morning, and when we got back it was straightened up and the beds were made! As she would say, in awe, “Like magic.” Then she became even more fascinated when we told her that it was actually a person who came and did that while we were gone. So, one day when we were just staying at the hotel to swim in the pool, Hubby specifically took DD back to the room while the cleaning lady was there, so that she could meet the lady who did such a nice thing for us!
* One time our neighbors down about four houses had a garage sale. In the afternoon, I walked down to browse and chat with Kathy, the home owner. I asked her how it was going, and she laughed. (I should have recognized that as a bad sign.) She said it had been really slow, except she had had ONE verrrry interesting customer who had bought just about every little nickel and dime knick knack she had had displayed. The reason she had laughed was because her customer had been my daughter!
Naturally, when I got home, I looked for DD. She was right where I would have expected — up in her room, enjoying her redecorating efforts. Every flat place in the whole room, including the window ledges, were now “tastefully” decorated with every little knick knack our neighbor had no longer wanted. My guess is that Kathy must have given DD the “friends and neighbors discount” because DD had a way of leaving her allowance laying around, and then not being able to remember what she did with it, so I can’t imagine that she had tooo much money to spend. I wish I had taken pictures — her room was very . . . festive, in a garage sale sort of way. I’m pretty sure alot of that stuff ended up in OUR next garage sale, after DD got tired of it. (Kathy, if you’re reading this, I’m sure your laughing all over again at this memory too.)
* One time when DD was about 8 or 9, I was sick and lying on the sofa in the family room. She felt sorry for me because I was sick, so she said she would make supper — what would I like? Hmmmm. The offer was tempting because I reallly did feel bad, but what could I tell her how to make? She hadn’t had much experience in the kitchen and any she did have had been with me in there with her, supervising. Then I had an idea — tuna salad. It was a favorite of the whole family, and it was something simple enough (mostly just assembly) that I thought I could describe how to make to her, without having to get up off my “death bed” and go into the kitchen to actually supervise.
So, the first thing I told her to do was to get out a sauce pan, fill it half-full with water, carefully put four eggs into the water and put it on a burner to boil. I couldn’t see her because the sofa I was lying on faced away from the kitchen, but I could hear her in there bustling around and putting the pan on the burner, and she even called in to confirm with me which setting to put the burner on. It sounded like this was going to work out fine. But, then she asked a question that told me, we might have to eat cereal for supper. She said, “What should I do with the egg shells? Put them in the trash or put them down the garbage disposal?”
After I had her throw those four eggs away, and start over with four more, still in their shells this time (luckily we had four more), she went ahead and make the tuna salad, and I remember it was very good, and I reallly did appreciate her taking care of making supper for me. She always did have a caring and helpful heart.
* One last story. One time I got a call from the room mother in DD’s class (maybe 4th grade). She sounded a little miffed — she said that DD and her buddy Brent had apparently taken it upon themselves to collect money from the other kids to buy their teacher a birthday present. (She knew this because her daughter had come home and asked her for money so that she could contribute.) Only trouble was, the room mother had already collected money at the beginning of the year that was just for things like that — gifts for the teacher’s birthday, Christmas, etc. I apologized and told her I would take care of it.
When DD got home from school, I asked her about her “project,” and she got out the lunch bag that she and Brent had been keeping the money in until they could buy the present, and showed me the money. They had collected almost twenty dollars — she was so proud! Well, I told her about the room mother’s call, and told her she would have to return the money. She was really disappointed, and I was a little disappointed for her too — she thought she had had a great idea, and she was working to do something nice for a teacher she really liked. But, that was a reality check for my little girl — great ideas don’t always work out the way we would like. So, the next day she and Brent gave the money they had collected back to their classmates. Sad, but a little wiser.
That’s all the memories I can’t think of off-hand. But, I think the ones I have told tell you alot about my little girl. She did and still does have a tender heart, especially for someone sick or someone like a favorite teacher. She wasn’t a “natural” at cooking to start out, but she was willing from an early age, and learned from her mistakes, so she has become an excellent cook. I think she’s gotten over her fear of the Easter Bunny, or, if she hasn’t, at least she doesn’t cry hysterically when she sees him any more. And I think her love of a good garage sale knick knack has passed — replaced by a love of all things Target!
I love you, Daughter of Mine.