You're Gonna Be in So Much Trouble ...
I told Scout this story and she thought I should post it on her blog.
When she was about 2, we took a holiday in New Zealand. I bought her a stamp with a smiley face on it that lit up when you stamped something. Stamps were important to her because the kids got a stamp at kindy on the back of their hands when they used the little potties, quite an accomplishment while potty training.
While riding in the car one afternoon, she quietly stamped every bit of her skin that she could reach ... arms, hands, top of her legs, face, neck. It was a yellow stamp and didn't wash out in the bath but only blurred a bit. She was just a little pale blonde thing and her skin showed everything. The next day she looked as if she had jaundice. Well, as if parts of her had jaundice.
When the stamps didn't wash off, she was in big trouble and she knew it. I told her in no uncertain terms that covering herself in stamps that didn't wash off was not on and under no circumstances was she to ever do that again. Stamps on the back of her hand from kindy was OK ... self-stamping was not.
The deal the next day was that, if she was good while we were in Rotorua, she'd get to go to Maccas, her idea of Nirvana at that time. While I ordered, she sat on the counter checking everything out. At the next register was a large Maori family. After ordering, while two men waited at the counter, the rest of the family went to find tables. These guys were big boys and were easily big enough to be front rowers for some local rugby club.
Scout took one look at their tats, all over their arms and faces, and couldn't believe what she saw. "Excuse me," she said to them gravely, "but you are gonna be in so much trouble when your mum sees that you've done." She pointed to the tats on their arms.
At this point, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I'd seen Once Were Warriors and was totally prepared to die right there in McDonalds. I could almost imagine the headlines of the local Rotorua paper describing the carnage.
The guys broke into huge smiles and told her that their mums already knew and that they didn't get in any trouble. So she looked at me in triumph, as if to say, "See?" One of them let her touch the tats on his arm and explained to her that they would never wash off. That impressed her even more.
But she never did stamp herself all over again.
When she was about 2, we took a holiday in New Zealand. I bought her a stamp with a smiley face on it that lit up when you stamped something. Stamps were important to her because the kids got a stamp at kindy on the back of their hands when they used the little potties, quite an accomplishment while potty training.
While riding in the car one afternoon, she quietly stamped every bit of her skin that she could reach ... arms, hands, top of her legs, face, neck. It was a yellow stamp and didn't wash out in the bath but only blurred a bit. She was just a little pale blonde thing and her skin showed everything. The next day she looked as if she had jaundice. Well, as if parts of her had jaundice.
When the stamps didn't wash off, she was in big trouble and she knew it. I told her in no uncertain terms that covering herself in stamps that didn't wash off was not on and under no circumstances was she to ever do that again. Stamps on the back of her hand from kindy was OK ... self-stamping was not.
The deal the next day was that, if she was good while we were in Rotorua, she'd get to go to Maccas, her idea of Nirvana at that time. While I ordered, she sat on the counter checking everything out. At the next register was a large Maori family. After ordering, while two men waited at the counter, the rest of the family went to find tables. These guys were big boys and were easily big enough to be front rowers for some local rugby club.
Scout took one look at their tats, all over their arms and faces, and couldn't believe what she saw. "Excuse me," she said to them gravely, "but you are gonna be in so much trouble when your mum sees that you've done." She pointed to the tats on their arms.
At this point, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I'd seen Once Were Warriors and was totally prepared to die right there in McDonalds. I could almost imagine the headlines of the local Rotorua paper describing the carnage.
The guys broke into huge smiles and told her that their mums already knew and that they didn't get in any trouble. So she looked at me in triumph, as if to say, "See?" One of them let her touch the tats on his arm and explained to her that they would never wash off. That impressed her even more.
But she never did stamp herself all over again.
posted by MG Quilts at
9:20 pm
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