Has this week been long? Is it just me? Is it you? Is it me? Is it you? Is it them?
Put a fork in it. It's done! (Well, almost.)
Time to ease into the weekend festivities. Here's the game for today. In comments, tell us about a time when you did something "bad" as a child and got caught. Let's hear about some of the mischief you caused!
I'll get it started here. When I was 9 or 10, I decided for no apparent reason that it would be cool to light a tissue on fire in the bathroom. You know, just a spur of the moment kind of thing. Well, as soon as the lit match hit the tissue, it went up in a fireball. I had no choice but to drop it. Something like a feathery, smoking meteorite floated down to the bathroom rug and proceeded to melt and blacken a patch of it. Whoops. No hiding that. Mom didn't know what to do with me when she saw it, so she sicced dad on me when he got home. I got reamed because "I almost burned the house down." My father was given to exaggeration. I tended not respect his reactions and lectures because of it.
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24 comments:
Tragically, I was a terribly good child.
I have not been rewarded by receiving an angel though. I have Princess. I think one of her more special moments would be the time she ate, yes ate, the varnish off our new polished dining room table - with the toothmarks left to prove it.
mmmm, my dad was busy fixing up a vw beetle, had just gotten it back from the paintshop. they went away for a weekend, and me in my 15-year old wisdom, took it for a joy ride. since it didn't have a number plate, my friends and i etched one out of the paintwork.....
We would slip out of the house at night and off to the river for a swim in our underwear. To this day, my parents don't know I have jumped from barges and swum across the wide river in the middle of the night.
Three or four days after the Detroit riots of '67 my older brother (13 months) and I got about eight white kids ranging in age from his 14 down to about 7 and we rode our bicycles through the burned out riot area. spent the whole day riding through the blocks of burned out houses and business'
My mother didn't find out about it until we were well into our 30's but I was able to blame him none the less...she jumped out of her chair and beat him. Slapping at him and yelling at his stupidity blah blah blah.
I personally laughed my ass off to see him cowering away from an old lady. She turned to me to start in but when she saw I would still laugh at her beating me like she'd done him, she started in with the mouth...I left and got drunk. Not because of her mouth, which never hurt me before, but to celebrate my brother finally getting what he should have gotten 25 years before...yes I was the one who let the cat out of the bag.
Well, I, of course, don't have any such stories. Model child.
But I have a friend...apparently she may have forged a check from her parents' account to order a subscription to Reading Rainbow magazine (yes, the Reading Rainbow show on PBS hosted by Levar Burton...they offered a magazine subscription). I'm sure she didn't think the check or order form would actually end up in the mail...I'm sure it was just a "wish list" kind of exercise. Yet somehow it happened.
And when the first issue of the magazine arrived, her "Telltale Heart" intensity of guilt led her to confess to her mother. And she never did anything like that again.
My poor, poor friend. I'm sure she'd be downright mortified to know this story was being told to a lawyer.
I did the same thing to our bathroom rug, only it was just slightly scorched, so I trimmed off the burnt bits. Probably made it a good five or six hours before it got noticed.
This was really sweet... Hmmm, being bad when I was young ?! Nothing comes to mind. Was Miss Goody Two Shoes when I was young, it's in my 20s that I was always up to no good !! :))
Always starting fires... ;)
I was pretty pathetic on the bad-o-meter, but it was more out of fear than any innate goodness, I think. My dad had a paddle, and wasn't afraid to use it on my siblings.
So this is kind of lame, but I remember getting a C+ in math in sixth grade. This was "bad." And I remember drawing a bath, and sitting in it for two hours to avoid him. The skin puckered up, but eventually, I had to get out and absorb the lecture (but not the paddle, thank god). ;) I was putting my future in jeopardy, etc, etc.
And all because of fractions.
I wasn't particularly naughty as a child, but I remember once drawing road markings all over our tiled patio, thinking it would be fun to ride my bike around there like it was a real road. Seemed like a good idea at the time, and I thought it looked pretty good in pink and purple chalk, but my Dad was less impressed and I had to stay out there until I had it all scrubbed clean again. Bah humbug.
I "dyed" black spots on our old white dog with mom's expensive mascara. Neither the dog nor my mom liked it one bit.
@ McK: You, a terribly good child? Why do I find it hard to believe? :P
@Karen: You didn't!!!!!!!!!!
@ Sarah: Just a C+? That is Lame!
@ Kaye: ROFL!!!
Now which one should I tell? Its such a long list. :D
I guess the one that got me one hell of a thrashing was when I was about ten. My cousin was about 6 months old when we went to visit her. They kept feeding her with bottles of milk. My bro. & I used to hate milk and had got tired of yrs of forcibly drinking it. So we decided to save our lil' cousin from the same fate. So when we were left alone with her we replaced the contents of the milk bottle with Coke. She started burping after 2 sips. Luckily for her and unluckily for us, our grandma caught us in our act in time. Boy did we get a thrashing from Dad!
One good thing came out of it though. Mom always asked if we would like to have milk, then onwards. :D :D :D
when I was about 8 I broke a lamp. my mom thought my brother did it and was railing at him. I finally had to admit that I did it, and I didn't even get in trouble. She'd already taken her yelling out on my brother.
Well, I was going to share my 5th grade going-to-the-principal's-office story but as it, too, involved TP as did your story, I don't want to take away from your outright wickedness. :)
The story I STILL cannot live down after 25 years is when I wrote my name (age 5ish) on my niece's befroom wall and then tried desperately to convince my sister and mother that my niece had in fact learned to write MY name and had done so with black marker on the wall. I don't know why they didn't believe me. My niece was all of 18 months old.
This is such fun! A great example of truth being more entertaining than fiction. LOL
I have a slight spin on the "model child" history. I became a model child after giving Mom and Dad a few gray hairs. I like to think I was a fast learner, because my stories all happened before age 5. And of course, all blame goes to my brother for these indiscretions.
About age 2, we thought we'd help Mom wax the floor. Only we used baby powder and wet cloth diapers from the diaper pail...
At 4 we enjoyed our pretend game of "boat" in the basement play room. But apparently I wasn't happy with pretend water, so we filled a hallway with about an inch of water through a tedious process involving the sink and play dishes/cups.
And at 5, we decided to play "parents" when Dad left us in the car while he ran into the grocery store for a few items. "Parents" involved jumping into the front seat, with my brother turning the steering wheel pretending to drive. Little did we know he also knocked it out of "park" and gravity took over...
That was it. I was as good as gold after those early years. :D
Everyone is making this a wonderful post! Thanks!! I've been laughing out loud at the things we've gotten into.
Here's another one for me. When I was 18, my friend and I planned a pre-college trip to Myrtle Beach. I had a job at a temporary garden center set up in a parking lot, and I asked my less-than-successful in life middle-aged co-worker to buy some alcohol for us to take on the trip. Because he was always on the edge of total ruin, he pocketed the money and used it to fix the floor in his car so that it would pass inspection (he needed the car to get to work). He then got nervous that my parents would call the police on him, so he chased me down on the highway after we buzzed by his place in the city, and proceeded to tell me that he called my house and confessed to my mother. From her end, this crazy guy was on the phone talking about booze, money, and sheet metal. My parents were in bed when I got home, so I got to look forward to the resulting conversation all the next day. Actually, I didn't get reamed that time. Despite the fire episode, I was pretty well behaved. They probably were relieved I was finally doing teenage things. (Little did they know about the other stuff.)
When I was little I drew lines across the screen of our black & white televisions and for some reason the image stayed.
I was kind of a good kid, with ocassional strange things.
The one I still recall as harsh and improperly sized sanction was the beating I got on my bottom for urinating onto an ornamental flower bed, among roses and stuff - I was about 8-9 years old, we were on a holiday resort and the apartment was closed for some reason and I was in great need.
It amy sound a funny memory, but in fact it wasn't.
I still don't think the *crime* measures up to the punishment given.
amy=may, sorry for the typo...
Before I was 14 my mother would always quietly ask me "Are you doing any drugs?" I wasn't and said so.
When I was 14 I did some mescaline and never looked back...funny how the questions stopped after that first hit of mescaline.
hhmm... it all makes perfect sense.
Over dramatizing everything (like my EX!) only causes one to say phooey.
This is similar to the time my son burned love letters and threw them in the plastic kinda trash can. When I asked what he was thinking, it was nothing. Obviously.
When I was about 10 I decided it would be fun for my younger sisters & I to play "slide" in our sock feet down the hall. We had hardwood floors & Mama kept them shiny & with a good run we could slide all the way into the living room.
Where my father was watching tv after working in the steel plant all day.
He kept saying stop. We kept sliding, just not into the living room. Then... oops!
Of course as the instigator I got the worst of it...
All of these stories are sooo funny! And I notice a trend ---bad boys and good girls. Hmmm....
:-)
I was also in the goody two-shoes camp, I guess until about 17. Not too much then either. I guess at about 18, while still in high school, my best friend and I turned rebellious. We started 'smoking pot' which consisted of probably two joints for the entire year.
Funny coinicidence, I was just having dinner with Thing 1 and Thing 2, and they were reminiscing about all the 'bad stuff' they've done in their lives. Thing 2 remembered throwing a rock and it landing on a glass table. He also remembered I didn't get mad and wanted to know why.... too cute! He's only 9 and going down memory lane.
:-)
It snowed twice where I lived as a kid, once when I was three, and again when I was seventeen. I was a straight A kid the teachers loved- I was also the clever idea girl for all my friends.
I arrived at the school early but because of the unusual weather, classes were not begun. I got one good snowball made before hundreds of kids vied for the flakes and I held on to it for quite some time trying to decide whom to throw it at. Finally I spotted my friend Dave, and I fired that snow(ice)ball right at him, in my head. It landed square at the base of the head of the dean of boys and dropped him. When he got up, he demanded to know who threw it, and everyone pointed at me. He called them liars. I confessed. He said it was wrong for me to try to take the blame for others. When a girl named Andrea protested, he gave her detention for talking bad about such a good student. I tutored her in math to apologize, and we stayed friends for a few years after, doing it all and getting caught at nothing.
The lesson I learned from it? I not only matters who you are, it also matters who people think you are.
I was visiting my uncle who lives in the hills..It was summer time and the pine trees had shed their leaves.. Slippery and highly inflammable these pine leaves were everywhere across the big jungle surrounding my uncle's house. Wearing my 12 yesr old attitude and carrying a match box I was having fun putting fire to these pine leaves and immediately extinguishing them.. The last fire got too much for my little self and I burnt around a square kilometer of jungle. Praying like crazy for the rain I found solace in my cousin and told him that it was me who was the fire starter . He confided in my mom and I got the thrashing of my life time..It burnt for three whole days..12 years have passed and even now when I visit my uncle's house I see my handiwork in the form of trees with darkend trunks.
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