Because my siblings and I tried to kill each other in various ways on a daily basis, I now have a duty to record our attempted murders.
A few summers after my dad graduated from The Best Graduate School Ever, my parents remodeled the house my mom grew up in. This house was a looker. Asbestos laden "popcorn" adorned the ceilings, waiting to kill some unsuspecting sucker. A large, life-sized painted Charlie Chaplin mournfully gazed down upon us from the walls of our playroom -- probably also waiting to kill some unsuspecting sucker. Brown painted panels, most definitely covered in lead, lurked about for my baby sister Maddie to gnaw on should they come loose from the wall and fall on her head as she crawled around the dinning room. It was truly a lovely home.
During this remodel, my mom needed to run a few errands (probably more black and white curtains) and packed up my brother and Maddie into our mini-van. Who knows where I was. Probably playing with my imaginary friends.
Now, this was no high-tech Honda all the hip soccer moms are driving these days. No automatically starting engines and TVs and nonsense. No fancy keys or cool sunroof. This was a gold and white Mercury Villager. The greatest. We named it The Van.
Forgetting something inside, my mom instructed Brock to Stay in the Van with the Baby. Got it? Stay in the Van with the baby.
She was in the house a few minutes when Brock came running back inside. My mom was a little surprised to see him since she had instructed him to Stay in the Var with the Baby. She asked, "Brock! What are you doing!?"
Brock reassured her, "Don't worry Mom. I locked all the doors. The Baby is safe!"
Yes, Maddie was locked in. She, for one, would Stay in the Van. Looks like she had no other choice.
At least she was safe!
*For the record, my mom called the cops and they got the Baby out.
-whitters
A few summers after my dad graduated from The Best Graduate School Ever, my parents remodeled the house my mom grew up in. This house was a looker. Asbestos laden "popcorn" adorned the ceilings, waiting to kill some unsuspecting sucker. A large, life-sized painted Charlie Chaplin mournfully gazed down upon us from the walls of our playroom -- probably also waiting to kill some unsuspecting sucker. Brown painted panels, most definitely covered in lead, lurked about for my baby sister Maddie to gnaw on should they come loose from the wall and fall on her head as she crawled around the dinning room. It was truly a lovely home.
During this remodel, my mom needed to run a few errands (probably more black and white curtains) and packed up my brother and Maddie into our mini-van. Who knows where I was. Probably playing with my imaginary friends.
Now, this was no high-tech Honda all the hip soccer moms are driving these days. No automatically starting engines and TVs and nonsense. No fancy keys or cool sunroof. This was a gold and white Mercury Villager. The greatest. We named it The Van.
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| Yeah, I know this isn't gold and white. |
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| The most reliable of babysitters. |
Brock reassured her, "Don't worry Mom. I locked all the doors. The Baby is safe!"
Yes, Maddie was locked in. She, for one, would Stay in the Van. Looks like she had no other choice.
At least she was safe!
*For the record, my mom called the cops and they got the Baby out.
-whitters
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