I knew I had done something wrong and I was in trouble. Sometimes I didn't think before I acted, sometimes I did, this time I just really wanted to do something mom told me not to do and now I was paying the price.
Mom picked me up and sat me on the counter, a cross look on her face. "Gale," she scolded, "what am I going to do with you? I told you not to do that."
I looked at mom from the the corner of my eyes. I expected to get in trouble, but I was a pretty stubborn three year old. It would be easier to cry a little bit than to say "I'm sorry."
Mom picked up a hairbrush lying on the table, slapped it against her hand, and said, "Gale, I've told you and told you not to do that, and you deliberately disobeyed me. What am I going to do with you?"
I looked at the soft brush in moms hand, then burst into tears.
"Oh, come on, Gale," mom was frustrated. "I haven't even spanked you yet. Stop crying."
I blubbered even harder.
Dad walked into the kitchen just then. "What's the matter with Gale?" he asked. Mother gave him a helpless look and said, "She just won't listen to me, and now she's crying before I even spanked her."
It had been a long, hot afternoon. Dad was covered with dirt, grass stained the knees of his pants, and his hands were coated with grease from struggling with the old lawn mower that wouldn't work. Dad's patience was about gone, and my crocodile tears were not helping.
"Gale," he promised crossly, "if you don't stop crying I'm going to give you something to cry about."
I looked from mom, holding the hair brush, to dad, covered in dirt, and realized I wasn't going to get comfort from either one. Then my tears into sobs.
It wasn't usually like that at our house. Mom was the most patient woman in the world, and dad was a big softy. They may both have been raised with the saying, "Spare the rod and spoil the child," but they tended towards spoiling anyway. The fact is, they were both sweethearts.
Our favorite time of the day was bedtime, when either dad or mom, or often both, tucked us into bed and told bedtimes stories and sang us songs. Dad would tell the most amazing "Africa" stories, about us going on safaris, riding boats down the Nile, seeing crocodiles and hippopotamus's that wanted to eat us until we told them we were too skinny and bony and they would get a belly ache, so they ought to eat someone else. He used to sing us a song about a lady who floated down the Nile.
"She sailed away on a sunny sunny day on the back of a crocodile.
You see said she he's as tame as he can be and I'll ride him down the Nile.
The Crock winked his eye as she bade them all goodbye, wearing a happy smile.
At the end of the ride, the lady was inside, and the smile was on the crocodile."
We loved that song!
Mother's stories and songs weren't as exciting, but we loved them just as much. She told us about little Whitie, the kitten who was sick so his mama made him a mouse pie and he got all better, then she would sing us lullabies. Our favorite was Sleepy Time For Dolly.
Sleepy time for dolly, busy day is done,
Dolly must be tired after so much fun.
Put away your play toys, say goodnight to all
You will be in dream land, before the shadows fall.
Sleepy time for dolly, tumble into bed,
Dolly must be tired darling sleepy head,
Such a tiny pillow, sheets so white and clean,
I can see a smile as you snuggle in between.
Sleepy time for dolly, tumble into bed
dolly must be tired, darling sleepyhead
Now you look so cozy, I'll turn out the light
So until tomorrow, my dolly dear goodnight.
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