posted Mon, 28 Aug 2006
My cousin Jeff’s little girl, Caitlin, was running around the Grand Fish Fry (more about that later) in one of Jeff’s sweatshirts. Caitlin is a tiny five-year-old and Jeff is in his late thirties, so the sweatshirt was just a little bit too big for her. The sleeves went all the way to the ground.
I couldn’t resist.
“Caitlin! Come here!” I called.
She obeyed. I have that power. Merely by telling them to do so, I can also make children who do not know me wash their hands – using soap -- in public restrooms. Yes. I have done this.
“Let me show you something,” I coaxed.
I took the sleeves of the sweatshirt, wrapped them loosely around her front, and tied them behind her. Now she was in a straitjacket.
She burst into tears.
Not quite the response I expected. Hey! This was supposed to be funny!
I quickly untied her, expecting the tears to stop.
But they didn’t. She stomped away from me, tears of indignation running down her face. “That’s not nice!” she shouted at me over her shoulder as she left.
Oh great. Now I’ve scarred her for life.
I found Jeff later and told him that 30 years hence, when his daughter is going through therapy, I am the person she means when she talks about being kidnapped, tied up and held for two weeks. I guess she can send me the bill for that session.
But it was kinda funny.
Perhaps it’s a good thing I don’t have children.