Samuel Would be Proud

My ladylike vocabulary goes way back to my preschool years.

I mean, ideally I would blame my parents, but they had specific “go to” words they used, and I would like to believe I’ve taken it to the next level, especially if I’m really angry.

I have this memory of when I was approximately three or four years old, one which my father remembered far more clearly than me (because I don’t recall the swearing part). My neighbour (who had the wisdom of a whole other year on me) and I were climbing up into my tree fort – which, by the way, was pretty sturdy. The method of getting up the tree, not so much. The crotch of the very large maple tree was probably eight-ish feet high *in kid terms though, this was more like thirty*. The “ladder” (Haha safety, shmafety. I was an eighties kid) was a two-by-six, with board scraps hammered across it horizontally. Whether the top of the ladder was attached depended on the week. Sometimes it actually was, until it popped out again. I didn’t always tell Dad to fix it, simply because I was too busy trying to break my neck.

However, I digress.

My neighbour was trying to climb the ladder, and I was at the base, attempting to steady it. Enter my father. Well, not really “enter” per se – he stayed in the chicken coop and listened in, admittedly for his own entertainment value. It went something like this:

“Lisa, would you hold the goddamned ladder straight?”

“Jesus christ, I am holding the goddamned ladder straight!!!”

My Dad apparently decided to come help us at this point, pretending he hadn’t heard the swearing – and also trying to stop laughing. At least by then I could say “L” properly, because it would have been “goddamned wadder”. Not sure Dad could’ve kept himself composed for that.

Oh and as a side note, a picture from those years, same neighbour and I decided to cut each others’ hair (the night before school pictures, even). It went smashingly, as you can see. Mother was not pleased. Dad, well, I never got his take on this one – but I know he probably laughed – both at the cut and how hopping mad my mother was.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s