January 28, 2005
King of the World
A few days after my second birthday I was left, shall we say? unattended in the backyard. Just for a moment. That is all it takes for a boy to find mischief. My father had been doing work on the roof, and had left a ladder against the side of the house.
When my mother, nine months plus pregnant with my brother, went to retrieve me, I had scaled that ladder, and was perched upon the rooftop, straddling the spine, surveying my nascent kingdom. When Mom climbed the ladder in all her suffering pain to coax me down I complied. I was about six feet over from the ladder, however, and so I was sliding down on a path that would drop me straight off the roof.
After mastering her hysteria my mother managed to get me to shinny over to her, sideways instead of downward. She grabbed me scant inches from a plummeting death, or spinal cord injury.
I remember none of this, of course. My first memory is of the electrical socket and bobby pin mating soon afterwards. But the story was legend in the homestead, and so it is ingrained in my mind. So much so that I have it completely memorized without recollection. I imagine it not as it was, but as I institutionalized it.
Nonetheless, I like to think that for one brief, shining moment as a snot-nosed two-year-old, I was King of the Fucking World.
Did you have the sense to holler "Look Ma, no hands!"? I'm glad you made it off the roof without a negotiator. Nowadays, that'd be something I'd love to listen to... Negotitator vs. Velociman... True comedy I'm sure, If I was able to understand what was being said.
Oh, my God. Your poor, sainted mother, God rest her - I was so immoble at 9+ months that if you were my kid, you'd'a probably racked up that spinal cord thing you mentioned. Spry, I was not.
King of the Fucking World, indeed. I believe, upon my knowledge of you, that something of this attitude still applies. But I will say that if any one of my boys tried that stunt, he'd shortly find himself being crowned King of the Fucking Hickory Switch - but all mine are older than you were. You can't throttle a twobie. They don't get it, and you're just an asshole for doing it. Like beating a dog you've never house-trained, for peeing on the carpet. Cruel.
Quoth my heroine-du-jour: "That chile is danger'us, crazy, and ignunt. And tha's a turribul combernation, in a chile." I think this applies. ;)
Posted by: Queenie at January 28, 2005 11:55 PMSeeing as how I'm the 5th child, I really doubt my mom would have bothered to climb the ladder...after all, gravity always wins in the end. One less mouth to feed.
Posted by: zonker at January 29, 2005 12:58 AMQueenie: are you trying to say my significant others (call them Mom and Dad) had any compunction about beating me? Wel, cool. They loved to beat me. Occasionally. I needed five more.
Posted by: Velociman at January 29, 2005 12:58 AMHas everyone tried the bobby pin in the socket trick? I still remember my mother dropping her mop to stop me.
Posted by: Janis Gore at January 29, 2005 3:25 PMGawd, I can't resist that last softball...
Drop, Mop, & Roll.
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