What happened on a boring Sunday when parents were gone bowling and I am in charge of some brothers who felt a girl shouldn't be in charge, even if she was the oldest.
In the early 1950's our family didn't use real butter as it was more expensive than margarine. Every week my mom would buy a packet of this white bland looking margarine which had a big red dot in the middle of the packet- This red blob was the coloring to make this white stuff become yellow and thus we would have margarine.
Since I was the oldest, and a girl, mom gave me the job of kneading the red blob over and over again until the whole packet turned into yellow margarine. First of all, I was the oldest and a girl, then came my 3 brothers, (then 3 more sisters, and then another brother and lastly another sister).
I was about eleven at this time and my brother was nine going on 20. Everytime he got the chance he would try to get Mom to let him be the one to handle the maragine packet. He thought he was stronger, would do a better job, etc..That is why I was supposed to do the margarine only when Mom or Dad were at home.
Well, on this Sunday my brother and I were arguing over everything. From who really should be in charge, to what kind of goodies could everybody get into since our parents weren't at home, who could play the records, and what songs,etc..This went on for about an hour, and then my brother started in about the margarine. He wanted me to get the packet out and he would show me how he could do it better--I refused. He went and got it out of the refrigerator. I tried to get it from him. Then a tossing contest started with the other 2 brothers tossing it back and forth between the 3 of them, trying to keep it away from me. Then my brother who had gotten it out, had it, and I had it also. A tug of war started between us, back and forth we pulled the packet, when to our surprise it burst and the contents of the packet were suddenly all over the wall behind our couch. We ran to get towels, wash rags, you name it..my brother and I wiped and wiped the wall and all we did was make a bad stain that would not go away. Nothing we did would help.
Now it was blame time. Of course it was my fault because I was in charge and I was the oldest. Then I realized that our parents would be home in about half an hour..We just kept looking at each other..We knew we had to tell the truth, because our Mom had ways to make us be truthful whether we really wanted to or not.While we were still thinking about the story we were going to tell them, they suddenly pulled in the driveway.
You never saw so many kids go in different directions. So when our parents came into the house they instantly knew something had happened. Everything looked ok, but they sensed they had missed out on something not meant to happen. My mom was the first to spot the stain. She asked what happened to cause the stain. My brother said that he was sorry, but he and my other brother were kinda tickling each other, and their heads rubbed on the wall while playing, and the oily stuff on their hair must have left the marks.
Nothing more was said. Our parents went into the kitchen area and we heard them quietly talking about what had been told them. Then my Mom came back into the living room where all of her angels were sitting on the couch and on the floor, angelicly looking at her, and she spoke.
She said that as our Dad and her were discussing the situation, a little angel appeared and told her what really happened, and if she went back into the living room, a little devil would be sitting on the persons right shoulder who had caused all of this, and that person would have to tell the truth when confronted. Well, wouldn't you know, that when my Mom told about " the little devil on the shoulder bit" that my brother was the first to look on his right shoulder and try and brush away the little devil.. That did it, the story came out..Truthfully, this time. My brother admitted it was his fault. I was also to blame as I was in charge, and should have known better than to have let him goad me, etc....so needless to say we were both sent to our rooms to contemplate just what had happened. A lesson was learned by all.
No matter what happens, and what false stories are told to try and cover up a bad situation, our Mom always knew just how to get the truth out of any of us at any time. This was one of her "gifts," as she liked to remind us.
I have lots more stories about my life with my big family. Please come back to hear more.
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Reviewed by Justin Bumgarner
10/29/2006
This was hilarious! It reminds me of me and my sister.
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