by Mari McKee
A comic view of a few true life lessons I learned through the actions of others
|Events and Life Lessons
The following are true events that taught me important life lessons.
I was the middle lane at a stop light of a very busy intersection. This stoplight was extremely long. I glanced at the car beside me, and the driver winked at me and smiled. I noticed, immediately, he was missing some prominent teeth. I like to think I have an astute power of observation. I immediately turned my head and stared at the light. But through peripheral vision, I could still see this guy. He was looking around to see if anyone was looking at him. Then I watched him as he worked up a wad of spit. He then turned his head to face his driver’s window and spit out a huge ugly mass of sputum with force. By now, I was openly staring at him, being thoroughly disgusted. Unfortunately for him, his window was not open so his spit hit the window like a bomb and splattered all over the glass. The first thing he did was look around to see if anyone was watching. What he saw when he look at me, was a hysterically laughing female pointing her finger at his now opaque window. He wasn’t smiling or winking at me anymore. Finally, the light turned green and I sped off still laughing, with tears streaming down my face. The lesson to be learned is to make sure your window is open before hocking and spitting.
Continuing onward with my true stories, one Sunday, in church, the congregation was standing and singing from the hymnal. In the pew in front of me sat a boy, who appeared to be around three or four years old. It was easy to see how bored he was with the service. His mother was standing to sing the hymn with great enthusiasm, and was not paying attention to her son. He glanced over his shoulder and saw me smiling at him. He gave me a huge grin. Then, making certain that I could see what he was doing, he stuck his entire index finger up his left nostril and dug out a massive amount of snot. He then proceeded to roll it around in the palms of his hands until he had a perfect ball of snot. I was trying not to laugh aloud. He then proceeded to assault his right nostril and extracted another huge amount of snot. With the same intensity, he added this specimen to the ball and began rolling them together to make a mega-snot ball. He was nearly finished, when his mom finally glanced at him. With a look of horrified embarrassment, she leaned down and slapped his hands. I watched as the snot ball, as if in slow motion, ascended, made a huge arch and landed on a matron two pews behind me. She began yelling when the snot ball made contact with her best Sunday dress. I was laughing and snorting by this time. The mother roughly gathered her kid and yelled at him while she marched him down the aisle and out of the church. My stomach hurt from my laughter. As the congregation filed past the pastor on our way out of church, I told him that this was the most memorable service I had attended. He was gleaming, thinking I was referring to his sermon. I thought it best to leave it at that as I left. The lesson to be learned is if you must pick your nose, try to do it discretely under a Kleenex or handkerchief.
When my daughter was four years old, she talked all day long. The only time she did not talk was when she was eating or was asleep. One day I asked her why she talked so much. She answered, “’Cause I have a mouff!” Score one for the kid.
One day she was helping me make a cake. She was doing her usual non-stop talking when she said, ”Mommy, can I ask you sumpting?” I told her, of course, she could ask me anything. I did not realize this was a set-up for future questions.
She asked seriously, “Mommy, when I grow up, will my bosoms be as long as yours?”
I nearly spewed the mouthful of ice tea I was getting ready to swallow as I simultaneously looked down at my chest and vowed to make a trip to Victoria’s Secret to be fitted for some new bras, sans kid. Score 2 for the kid.
Another day I had started making dinner earlier than usual because I was trying some rather complicated new recipes. My daughter tugs at my jeans and asks if she can go play with a playmate that lives across the street. I sweetly tell her that I am in the middle of a new recipe and cannot stop to watch her cross the street.
Of course, she asked me why I had to watch her cross the street.
“Sweetie, I don’t want you to get hit by a car!”
As if talking to the village idiot, she said, But, I probably WON’T get hit by a car!”
Score 3 for the kid. The truth is she probably will not get hit by a car. It is difficult to argue with logic. So I resorted to what my mom used to tell me, and which I had sworn I would never say to my kids,
“You can’t go across the street BECAUSE I SAID SO!”
There is was, the dreaded mom phrase, which did not allow for argument or logic. The lesson I learned was that I had, indeed, become my mother.
Life experiences, such as these, taught me things I need to know about life.