Flashback Friday

When we would take family vacations when I was little and we would finally stop for the night at a road side motor inn, my little sister and I would always get stuck sharing a bed.  I totally didn't think this was fair because my sister always slept right up against me and would complain that I never gave her enough room.  She'd hold her hands against the bed and measure that she had about 24 inches.  By the time she'd hold her hands in the air, though, they'd be 3 centimeters apart.

My dad would get a bottle of 7-up once
we arrived at the motor inn.
I think he'd slip some Jack into his hotel cup with the 7up.

I'd scream that she was cheating.  She'd scream that I was pushing her off the bed.  My dad would scream for us to quit fiddle farting around and just go the hell to sleep.  Then he'd tell us that we weren't the only ones in the motor inn and we were probably disturbing the people in the room next to us.  I thought this was very weird because it sounded like the people in the next room were jumping on their bed.  You can't disturb that kind of fun.

My own momma - ever the peace keeper - would tell us to play some kind of game that we could play while lying in bed that would only require us to whisper.

"What kind of game?" we'd ask.

"Anything quiet," she'd say.  Clearly she had nothing.

I, once again saving the day for the entire family, developed my favorite game ever.  It was called "Guess what I'm writing."  Because I'm a great big sister, I'd always let my little sister go first.

I'd lay facing away from her and have her scratch a word on my back.

C A T

"Write it again," I'd say, "I wasn't ready."

C A T

"Ummm... You're not writing very clearly.  Do it again."

C A T

"Oh. I get it.  Dog."

C A T

"You didn't erase first.  Erase it, then write it."

{Rub, rub, rub} C A T

"Mouse?"

C A T

"Are you writing your name?"

At this point, I'm almost asleep because she's been scratching my back for a few minutes.  But, she's so selfish - she won't let me sleep.

"You're not being fair, Dork! I've been scratching CAT and you're not guessing it on purpose!" she'd scream at me.

"It's not my fault that you're a bad speller!" I'd scream back.

"Quit fiddle farting around," my dad would holler.  "We aren't the only ones in the motor inn.  Now, settle down and go to sleep. You're disturbing the neighbors."

My mom would say, "Why don't you girls play something quiet."

And then I'd say, "You go first."

D O G

Good times...