Monday, March 31, 2014

Thevictorian's Believe It or Not

I get by with a little help from my friends.

Rather than looking at this blank slate tonight, I went for a spin around the internets. Wouldn't you know it? Blog buddy Sioux, a manuscript-finisher, gave me a bit of inspiration. Oh, she didn't inspire me to finish a manuscript. M-O-O-N. That spells first I'd have to actually START a manuscript before I could finish one. And that's obviously not happening tonight. No, I took inspiration from her topic of honesty.

When I was in junior college, (yes, even Val, the illustrious valedictorian, went to junior college, thanks to a trustee's scholarship that was too good to pass up, along with free room and board and laundry service courtesy of the parental units), I had a psychology teacher who touched on the subject of honesty. Don't mind the run-on sentence. He was a psychology teacher, for cryin' out loud, not an English teacher.

Let's call him Dr. Bobo. He was quite partial to tossing the Bobo doll (figuratively, of course) into daily discussions. However, this one day, he got onto the subject of child development, and how there are ages and stages that human babies go through. And how parents of course think their child is the most brilliant, most beautiful creature ever born.

"Parents come up to me and tell me how advanced little Johnny is. How little Susie is surely the next Einstein. I know they're proud of their kids. I don't want to call anybody a liar. I don't want to embarrass them, or make them feel bad. One lady was so excited. 'Dr. Bobo! My son spoke his first words the other day. He's only six months old. I walked into his room to pick him up after his nap, and he said, May I have a cookie, please?'"

"Now, I knew a six-month-old baby would not speak like that. What could I say? What would YOU say? I've developed a standard response for these instances, in order to spare people's feelings. It's not exactly a lie. I'm not agreeing with them. I simply say, to their outrageous claims, 'Well, imagine that!' They can take it to mean whatever they want. We are both satisfied with the interaction. They've shared their pride and joy, and I've acknowledged them."

Hey, did I ever tell you about the summer 8-year-old Genius drove his 5-year-old brother around the yard in a standard-shift 1996 Toyota Tercel? Yep. Made him ride in the back seat. "You're not old enough to ride in front, Pony. Now put on your seatbelt." The Pony clutched 'Little Bear' to his shoulder, a stuffed bear he'd scammed from the top of my Valentines heart. Genius made many laps through the front yard, up the driveway, across the front field by the sinkhole, down past the barn, and back through the front yard. Hick and I didn't think anything of it. That was normal behavior for Genius.

Here's the car before Hick fixed it up.

Don't go calling 1-800-BAD-MOM. The statute of limitations has run out. Don't be a Dr. Bobo. Nobody is allowed to say, "Well, imagine that!" in the comments.

Don't make me come over there!


  1. Was that experience so psychologically scarring to The Pony that he STILL is fond of riding in the back seat?

    And when the Eagle's "Desperado" came on the car radio, did Genius insist on silence?

  2. Eight and five, hmmm. Did Hick encourage it?

    I must read slower. I read, "he clutched the bear to his shoulder. The bear from the 'Vaseline' heart."

    I'm having eye burning visions of Hick's idea of romance.

  3. I wish you had posted this before my those nice campers took out my mailbox. Remember, I was speechless when she kept insisting that they did not knock my mailbox down, but the post damaged their RV. I would have ben able to say "imagine that". Instead of just staring at her .....

  4. Thank God your kids didn't end up in the sinkhole.

  5. Imagine that! Actually I can believe that. I was driving stick at that age except it was a Ford tractor. But I had a whole pasture and the worst damage I could do was fling up fresh cow patties at my dad who was unloading the hay. Imagine that. Hmmmm, an even better noncommittal comment than, "Interesting!"

  6. Sioux,
    Have you been practicing remote hypnotism, Madam? Because I think you're onto something. That could very well be the root of The Pony's preference for riding in the rear.

    Genius did not shush on "Desperado." I don't think the radio worked. Nor did Genius stop short, or park in a handicapped space.

    I knew there was going to be a wise guy throw that in. And from Jersey!

    First of all, wash your eyes out with bleach. That will burn less. Because I am a lady, I will reveal nothing about Hick and Vaseline.

    Hick did indeed encourage it. He bought Genius a go-kart when Genius was only 3. That's because Hick never had a go-kart when he was a kid. Genius got pretty good with it. Hick wanted to enter him in kiddie go-kart races a couple towns over, but I put my Croc-clad foot down on that idea. Who knows...Genius might be a NASCAR racer by now if I had not blocked that path.

    Are you a psychology teacher? I'm getting a certain vibe...

    Now you have verbal ammunition for the NEXT TIME your mailbox is destroyed. Allegedly.

    Not by Hick's choice. He built them a clubhouse in the small sinkhole, by laying sticks across the top for a ceiling. I told them they couldn't play in it without life jackets, in case they fell through the bottom to the water table.

    Well, maybe you should come give Hick some lessons. He got off his tractor to work on something, and it knocked itself in gear when he went to get back on. HE RAN ALONG SIDE IT UNTIL HE COULD GET IT STOPPED. You know. In front of a great big tire that would crush him if he fell.

  7. yevisha,
    I don't mean to brag...but I have THREE sinkholes. That I know of.