Thursday, October 20, 2005

When I was a Tiny Pipsqueak...

At some point during our meal last night, my father started recounting memories. Only, we already know all his stories. So we did a little switch. We each told our own memories. Of course, it doesn't really matter that the kids in my family are 23, 20, 17, and 11...we had lots.

One story my mother told about my brother Ari goes like this:
Ari was very sensitive to noise when he was younger. One time when my mother was vacuuming, he got nervous and hid in the bathtub. Well, my mother finished vacuuming and couldn't find her son anywhere. After searching all over in our not so big cause we didn't move to the suburbs yet house, she found him standing in the tub still in sneakers holding his ears closed with the curtain pulled closed.
It's funny she said that story, because when I was in fourth grade or so I wrote that as my earliest memory. Funny how confusing memories get when they're not your own.

Then, interestingly enough, my sister told this story:
Once upon a time when she was very young, she got a haircut she absolutely hated more than anything. Very upset about it, she started venting as soon as she got into the car.
"I hate my haircut, it's so ugly. She said it would look different and she lied. She lied because she's a goy--all goys lie*."
"No," my mother started to say, "that's not true--not all goys lie."
And then the little squeaky voice sitting in the carseat (that's me) said, "only birds lie."

And so you see that I have actually had a hearing problem since I was a tiny pipsqueak. :)

There, Aaron, stories. :)


*Yes, a proper response was given...I just ended the story before that part. :)

1 original thoughts out there

Anonymous ian the liar said...

When I was a toddler I had a love/hate relationship with the vacuum. I was fascinated with it but terrified by it at the same time. We had the old kind where the air shot out of the back as strongly as it sucked into the hose so my dad would wait for me to sneak up on the thing (because if I crawled quietly enough it wouldn't know I was there) and then kick it so that the air stream hit me in the face. Then I would cry and my mom would come running and smack my dad with a broom. That makes my dad sound really mean, but I don't intend it that way. He is actually very cool.

Monday, October 24, 2005 12:18:00 AM  

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