A quote: “The boy who is going to make a great man must not make up his mind merely to overcome a thousand obstacles, but to win in spite of a thousand repulses and defeats.” ~~ Theodore Roosevelt
I’ll start with a story …
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“No girls allowed!”
Willow’s mom showed up at my door (of course) to complain about Matthew’s “toxic” boy-privilege and sexism.
“He’s 8” I explained, “and 8-year-old girls have cooties. Deal.”
I closed the door, maybe a bit more forcefully than I should have but now raising my fourth son of five, I’ve grown impatient with bored, suffocating, and insufferable moms like our neighbor. I’ll ask God for forgiveness, not her.
I hear my husband chuckling from the kitchen.
“Don’t laugh too soon” I say as I lay a hand on my growing stomach, “Let’s see how you handle a daughter.”
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license.
Iwoots says: DING DONG.
AGAIN?!?!? But also Willow?
Deep breaths. Open the door.
“I told Willow she must apologize to Matthew.”
Was not expecting that. And why does Willow look so…..sheepish and defiant at the same time?
“Matthew, please come to the front door. Willow and her mother are here.”
“NO!! I don’t want to see her!!”
“MATTHEW!! MATTHEW, GET YOUR BEHIND DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW YOUNG MAN!!”
{Matthew – stomp stomp stomp stomp; dad enters stage right}
“Take your ballcap off? You know the rule.”
Dad says “What a shiner!!”
Willow, crying, “I told him to stop saying I have cooties!!”
Cameron says: I think you’re the first to have ever done a sequel to the initial story. Nice!
Cameron says: It was the perfect hiding place. Far up enough that it was tough for most folks to get up here and a decent amount of cover. He grinned as he scooted into his nest, a pile of pine cones at the ready.
A group of kids were walking into the target zone. He raised his arm and suddenly felt a stick touch the back of his head. He looked at his father standing over him.
“What did you do wrong?” he asked.
“I focused too much on them and didn’t pay attention.”
“And?”
He sighed. “I forgot to look up.”
“Nicky, where are you?” Elaine scanned the area with a frantic urgency, wishing she could shout to him like she would back at Sparta Point.
Any minute now, Mikhael Yehuda would be here to whisk her and the children back home. The plan depended upon them being ready to slip away undetected and get to the Israeli Embassy. But Nicky would have to go running off on a lark, and unless she could find him in the next few minutes, the entire plan would fall apart before the journey back to the redwood forest via Jerusalem could begin.
At a sound above her, she turned. There he sat in a fork of a tree, still wearing the Oakland A’s ballcap one of the Feds had given him while hustling them all aboard the airplane that would take them into exile as Expulsees.
How to get him back down without raising her voice and attracting attention she couldn’t afford?
Navig8r says: There wasn’t a lot of cash to be had in our neighborhood, but the O’Malleys had done OK for themselves. They had always given back, with Mr. O’Malley coaching the Little League team. When he passed, Mrs. O’Malley took to ‘needing’ help with things to give us kids ways to earn some spending money now and then. Lawn mowing for the older boys, window washing for the girls, etc. Joey was too young for mowing, so it became his job to climb the tree when her cat ‘needed’ to be rescued. Mine was placing the tuna treats in the tree.
Dupin says: He’d just climb higher if I went after him. And such a mouth, taunting me like that. Just like his dad, and him naturally from me. The sins of the father. How many generations?
I went inside, got some beer, poured a glass of milk. Cheese and crackers for me, Uncrustables for him. Brought it all out, plus camp chairs. Then I waited.
He’s damned stubborn. I was stuffed with Ritz and sharp cheddar, and halfway through the six-pack before he came down. Oreos sweetened the deal. Now he’s yammering like the last hour hadn’t happened.
I love this kid.
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