On 11/22/2013 10:50 PM, Goomba wrote:
> On 11/22/13 10:28 PM, jmcquown wrote:
>
>> Still, why would kids even think it was something edible? Maybe I'm
>> different. When I was a child I wasn't much interested in what was
>> stored in the cabinet under the kitchen sink. It certainly wouldn't
>> have occurred to me to taste, much less eat!, anything I found stored
>> under the sink or near the dishwasher or laundry room. The mind boggles.
>>
>> Jill
>
> You were actually a toddler once. You have no memory of all the things
> you once tried to get into that your parents had to guard you from but I
> guarantee they had to pull you out of something once in a while.

Of course I was a toddler. But I didn't really toddle around much
until I was about two. I was extremely pidgeon-toed. For a while I
wore shoes with a bar between them to straigten out my feet. At any
rate, there wasn't much of interest in the kitchen. And my mother would
have had the common sense to tell us no. If kids these days take that
as a challenge, well, that's a shame.

Jill

On 11/22/2013 9:30 PM, jmcquown wrote:
> If kids these days take that as a challenge, well, that's a shame.
>
> Jill


You never had any of your own, did you?

"jmcquown" > wrote in message
...
> On 11/22/2013 10:50 PM, Goomba wrote:
>> On 11/22/13 10:28 PM, jmcquown wrote:
>>
>>> Still, why would kids even think it was something edible? Maybe I'm
>>> different. When I was a child I wasn't much interested in what was
>>> stored in the cabinet under the kitchen sink. It certainly wouldn't
>>> have occurred to me to taste, much less eat!, anything I found stored
>>> under the sink or near the dishwasher or laundry room. The mind
>>> boggles.
>>>
>>> Jill
>>
>> You were actually a toddler once. You have no memory of all the things
>> you once tried to get into that your parents had to guard you from but I
>> guarantee they had to pull you out of something once in a while.
>
> Of course I was a toddler. But I didn't really toddle around much
> until I was about two. I was extremely pidgeon-toed. For a while I wore
> shoes with a bar between them to straigten out my feet. At any rate,
> there wasn't much of interest in the kitchen. And my mother would have
> had the common sense to tell us no. If kids these days take that as a
> challenge, well, that's a shame.

I well remember a lot of the things I did as a toddler. Like getting out
the #2 can of Cling Peaches. I wanted a snack. Dropped the large can on my
bare toe. Blood pooled under the nail and it required a trip to the ER to
get it drained. Also sustained a serious burn from the side of the stove.
Yes, I was told not to go near it but I wanted to know what the word "hot"
meant. That didn't stop me from touching the lit end of cigarettes though.
I was fascinated with those!

My mom let us play in the kitchen all the time. She even put some
unbreakable items in the lower cupboard for us after having moved the canned
goods from there following the peach incident.

She was talking on the phone when my brother went clomping up to her asking
if she had another shoe for him. He had on those hard soled bootie type
baby shoes that were common in those days. He had forced his foot into a
metal percolator type coffee pot. Nobody could get his foot out and it
began to swell in his shoe. My mom considered calling the fire department
for that one. Luckily, the plumber who lived next door came home for lunch.
That guy got us out of a lot of scrapes. He had to use some sort of tool
that he had to cut the coffee pot off of his foot. My mom did have another
coffee pot. A Corningware one, white with the blue cornflower pattern. She
had put that coffee pot along with some other cheap metal things down there
to keep us occupied.

Then there were the sandbox incidents. My dad built us a large wooden
sandbox and painted it red. He put a seat at one corner by laying a board
across it, nailing it down and cutting the edges off, leaving a triangular
shaped hole. Debbie, the younger neighbor girl stuck her head into that
hole and got stuck there. This was in Wichita with the 100plus degree heat
beating down. Once again, the plumber came home from lunch and had to use
tools to get her out of there. We lost the seat but she got out.

Then she and my bro were playing in there. Her cats had pooped in it. She
told my bro to rub the poop on his skin to make it soft. We had no cats.
He didn't know what it was. He did. My mom freaked when he came into the
house. She had to take him back outside and hose him down.

Then the same girl was over playing. We had been gifted with a swing set
for Easter. Bro took the little rag rug that I had used for my Kindergarten
naps (or was supposed to but never napped), put it at the top of the slide
and told her if she sat on it, it would make her go faster. She did and he
yanked it out from under her. She fell and landed hard at the bottom of the
slide, hurting her back.

While we went over there so my mom could explain what happened, my bro
picked all the flowers by their door and rushed home to gift my mom with
them. So two strikes in one day for him!

Around this same time frame, someone gifted my bro with a baseball bat. A
real one. Not the hollow plastic one that I had that came with the Wiffle
ball. We used to hit each other over the head with that one. Didn't hurt
too much. So imagine what happened to little Debbie when he hit her with
the wooden bat! Thankfully due to his poor eyesight and lack of depth
perception, he didn't have good aim. But he still knocked her flat on her
back.

Oh and the time that I told my bro to jump from the couch and I'd catch him!
After I saw him coming at me, I realized I was too small to catch him so I
leapt out of the way. He landed top teeth down into my little red plastic
chair. One front tooth died right away and that chair remained with his
teeth prints in it.

Oh yes. And the time that I asked for gum but wasn't given any. So I
chewed on a cannonball from a toy set that my bro had. Accidentally
swallowed it. Or the time I accidentally swallowed the jaw breaker while
riding the pay horse at the grocery store. Or the time I accidentally
swallowed the sourball. All three times my dad was watching me and all
three times I got a round thing stuck in my throat. I guess parents didn't
know in those days about round things and small kids. He tried hot tea and
I managed to survive the incidents.

These are just the things I remember off the top of my head. I'm sure there
were plenty of other incidents.