Confessions of a Kindergarten Vampire #6
Single mother of two before she was 22, my mother was what you politely call "strict." A staunch believer in the adage "spare the rod, spoil the child" any weapon at hand--fly swatter, shoe, yard stick, wooden spoon--served as her "rod" when she was riled. Rather than heed warning and curb our mischievous ways, my brother and I hid the various weapons under the couch and carried on . . .
While I do remember a repairman pulling out our gold vinyl couch and finding--to my mother's mortification--a grand assortment of "rods" hidden beneath it, I don't recall this episode. But everyone else in the family seems to. And it has always filled me with a sick sort of prideful remourse, so I'll share it here.
The story goes that one Saturday afternoon, my mother was in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of pancakes, when my brother Joe, then about 3, committed some offense. While she was stirring and reprimanding, I crawled into the room, across the floor, and using her leg to steady myself, pulled up to a standing position, turned my face into her leg, opened wide and bit down! And, she says, smiled while she cried and hollered for me to let go. . .
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