When ever I think about my childhood I always seem to feel sorry for my parents, my mom in particular. I’m sure you are wondering why, well it’s because my brother and I both have very strong, outgoing and goofy personalities. So when I think back on the crazy things we did I can’t help but feel sorry for them. Take the time my mom went to trade in her car when I was about 4 or 5 years old, she left my brother and me in the car for literally five minutes or less. Well two hyper A.D.D kids in car alone for five minutes is a terrible idea, my brother decided to try and brush my hair with the ice scrapper brush and realizing that this would mess my hair up or hurt me I tried to defend my self and hit the brush away but by doing so I hit it into the ceiling and it ripped about two feet of the fabric. My mom turned around just in time to see this all unfold with the salesmen watching as well. Needless to say she was pissed.
Then there’s the time we went to North Carolina for a family wedding, I was 18 my brother 22. We were in this itty bitty town looking for somewhere to eat fast and cheap. We kept seeing these signs for “Bojangles”. My brother and I instantly think of the song Bojangles by the ying yang twins. The chorus goes “jigga jigga call the girl bojangles.” We start singing it over and over trying to convince our parents to take us there for lunch. Hungry and tired of hearing us they agree. We pull in the parking lot of this “bojangles” which looks a bit ghetto so I get out and start shaking my butt like I’m at club. So my dad says “stop it Mollie you’re going to get shot.” To which I respond with “its okay dad I will just run serpentine.” And as an example I run zigzag in the parking lot. Mean while my mom is getting mad, and yelling at me to stop. My brother is yelling keep going and my father is laughing so hard he falls out of the car. My mom FREAKS and starts yelling “Mollie stop it, oh my gosh, randy are you ok?” over and over mean while I’m stilling shaking my butt and running zigzag.
Family dinners are never serious at our house either. Many times we end up sitting around the table for hours making fun of each other. I like to remind my brother of how weird he was as a kid, like when he thought his hair could feel and for years he would say ouch the whole time he was getting his hair cut because it “hurt” his hairs. Or the fact that still to this day when he cuts his finger nails he must immediately put them in water because of the way it “feels” if he doesn’t. Or the time he had mom shave his name into the side of his head and it turned out to look more like a huge bald spot on the side of his head. Or my family likes to remind me of the time I peed my pants in wal-mart when I was 9 because I couldn’t find my brother to tell him where I was going. Or the days when I had a rat tail. Hot! We often remind my father of how grumpy he looks because he never smiles and he has a huge head. Or we remind my mom of how she mumbles and walks into other rooms while trying to tell us what to do. And how she always calls me brat, and uses it an excuse for things like the time she ran a red light. When I pointed it out to her-her response was “well if you weren’t such a brat.” Mother what does me being a brat have to do with your ability to drive? Mothers I tell you. Before my brother got married to his wife Andrea my mom decided she needed a nick name, so we sat and tried to give her one. My moms suggestion was Andi, my response:”that’s gay.” Mom’s response “Mollie don’t be rude.” Me:”how about Pandrea?” mom: “talk about gay!” me:”Pandrea it is.” And yes I do call her Pandrea
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