mattresses and tacks

When I was about ten or eleven, my family lived in this large, beautiful old farmhouse just on the outskirts of our small town. My siblings and I (two brothers, one sister) were all home for the summer. In our short lives, we had already gone through and burned out many a babysitter, and this summer was no different. Our parents hired Jenny and Susie for the summer to tag team babysit on alternating days. Sweet girls. Sweet girls who had no idea what they were in for.

You see, you might think I've always been the demure, sophisticated, sweet, polite girl you see before you. You might think the grace that oozes from my pores (and the sarcasm oozing from my fingertips at the moment) has always been a part of my being. No, in fact, I was as good as raised by a pack of wolves...or my two brothers. Jesse is almost exactly one year older than me and we've often been mistaken for twins, and Jason is almost exactly a year and a half younger than me. I had no choice but to be a ruffian. It is only by the influence of my Mom who IS demure, sweet, graceful, adorable, and Godly that I resemble a female in any form.

This particular summer my siblings and I decided that we wanted to jump off the roof. We had a back patio to our farmhouse, and it just so happened that you could walk right onto the roof of that patio from the second story window - mine and my sister's window. Our only problem? Those blasted babysitters. Never letting us have any fun. We had to figure out a way to drag the mattress from our room, down the stairs, and across the yard to be used as a landing pad without them noticing or hearing. I can't remember who came up with the diversion. Jesse was the brains of the outfit, but Jason and I tended to be the most daring, so it's hard to say. Whoever it was - they're brilliant. It was the perfect plan.

Gum. Plus long tangly hair. Equals babysitter diversion. I mashed it in my hair, twisting my stringy strands of summertime kid hair around that gum until it was good and stuck. Always the actress, I went to the babysitter in tears, sobbing about having to cut my hair and ruin it. Being the great babysitter that she was (I'm so so sorry!) she immediately whipped out the peanut butter and went to work in our downstairs bathroom. My shrieks of pain were timed to coincide with the bumps of the mattresses being drug down the stairs by three pre-Jr. High kids, and I made sure the entire ordeal lasted at least an hour. Long enough for my three siblings to do several rounds of climbing through the window, jumping joyously from the second story, falling in a heap of glee on the mattress, and running back through the house, up the stairs, to the bedroom for some more.

I would like to say we did this once, got our fill of doing something we weren't supposed to be doing, and minded our babysitter well the rest of the summer. Truthfully, Rachael and I took turns entangling gum in our hair and allowing the other the thrill of the jump. Perhaps our babysitter knew, maybe she really was clueless enough to not realize - all I know is - it was a blast. And Mom, if this is the first you're hearing of this...I'm sorry. But I can't lie, it was fun.

When Shawn was just about the same age, he spent much of his time waiting on his Dad at the end of church on Sunday mornings. One day, he noticed a bulletin board. A bulletin board with tacks on it. A bulletin board with tacks on it that was right next to the baptismal. As he waited for his Dad to finish his ministerial duties, Shawn would casually walk by the bulletin board, grab a handful of tacks, and yes, my friends...drop them into the baptismal. For weeks on end. When the time came several months later for a person to be baptized, Shawn's Dad found a baptismal floor filled entirely with tacks and was none too happy about it.

As I've been typing this, Shawn wants me to make it clear that his feat of mischievousness was not nearly as deceptive as mine. So there you go - I'll just say that MY acts of being a rapscallion involved only the possibility of pain to ourselves...Shawn's acts involved potential harm to someone else. You be the judge.

It was as I was watching my son scoot across the floor for the first time that these thoughts came to mind. He was now capable of reaching for the toy he saw, grabbing the dog's tail, and scooting towards our brick fireplace - despite our repeatedly picking up and putting him eight feet away. As I watched him take his first steps toward independence, I was reminded of how his father and I expressed that independence when we were young, and I was scared. Oh boy.

We're in for it now.