Putting My Feet In The Dirt Prompt #7 Alleviating The Ache
I thought it was the BEST game ever.
I wasn’t the sharpest 6 year old in the world, so when my parents tried to teach me how to play board games I could never catch on because strategy was not one of my strong points.
I could climb trees, I was fearless on the Jungle Gym, I used to ride my little bike across Aurora- or otherwise known on the maps as Highway 99, and at 6 years I was reading almost two grades about my age group.
But games. Nope. Couldn’t figure them out.
But then one day my friend Lori got this great game called ” Barrel of Monkeys ” and I loved it because all you had to do was dip your monkey into the barrel and try to catch other monkeys and if you did it right, you ended up with a chain of monkeys and guess what
I ACED THAT BABY. I became the Barrel of Monkeys Champion of 68th Street.
So for my birthday the only thing I asked for was that game, A Barrel of Monkeys.
My Mom didn’t get why I begged like crazy for this game when she knew I wanted a new bike, a puppy and new Snoopy toys and I had been talking about them right after Christmas.
And then…oh yes there is a ” and then ” we went to a relatives house for dinner.
The topic of what I wanted for my birthday came up and I, of course went into my pitch for A Barrel of Monkeys.
And then…and then… one of my Dad’s relatives pointed out that maybe my Mom didn’t want a ‘ Barrel of Monkeys ‘ when she already had a Screeching Monkey like me running around under foot.
This particular relative had taken to calling me a screeching monkey over the holidays. And no, there was no affection in that and yes it was a racial slam and she kept it for a little while- I’m pretty sure my Great Grandmother- who was not a person to Eff with, made her stop.
Before we left that evening, probably in a gesture of good will- or to much sherry my relative asks me, ” So, it’s a Barrel of Monkeys for our Screeching Monkey! ”
I was putting on my jacket and I said, ” I change my mind. I don’t want a Barrel of Monkeys ”
I saw my Mom grit her teeth because she had probably already bought it at that point. ” Then what DO you want?”
” A Creepy Crawley Thing Maker. You can make bugs. Poisonous ones. ”
My Mom looked from me to my relative and said, ” You heard her. She want’s a poisonous bug maker.”
I got one.
From my Great Grandmother.
I also never got called a Screeching Monkey after that too.