I have an….interesting…sense of humor. And evidently I have since I was about three years old. I started talking when I was one. In complete sentences. Just out of the blue – BAM – I’m talkin’. I wish I could remember back far enough to figure out whether I freaked people out on purpose. Like maybe I sat on all my words until I was sure I could get my point across?? Ben says I’m quirky, and that seems like something I would totally do.
Anyway, when I was three-ish years old, and exploring such things as cynicism, we went to visit one of the Gma’s in the mountains. Her hubby had built a cabin there and it was a rockin’ “everything = outside” place to play as a kid. And it had this amazing deck that you could swing your legs off of.
So at the tender age of something-less-than-4, I was swinging my legs off the deck and evidently chunking rocks at squirrels. (Which I would
NEVER do now, squirrels are ADORABLE). These squirrels trusted me, because Gma fed them every morning and evening. I guess it was my
lot in life to teach them they shouldn’t trust all humans – especially the little ones. My squirrel-lesson-in-misplaced-faith riveted the attention of the residing Gma – at which point she ran outside and said, “Jamie Rene!! You stop throwing rocks at my squirrels or I’ll go to your house and throw rocks at your dog!!”
To which I calmly replied, “You can’t. My dog’s dead.”
What!?! Grandma evidently ran back into the house so she could giggle in the bathroom without anyone knowing. But to this day, I have no idea if I said that to be snarky – or if I was merely stating fact, and in turn, explaining that she would have to pick something else to throw rocks at.
Again Momma, I’m so sorry you got landed with all this awkwardness – thank cheeses you had Aunt J. and the Ya-Ya’s to help you through it =P