Remembering

Tom Hanks is probably one of my favorite actors.   Forrest Gump is probably one of my favorite movies.  And I agree with one thing–It’s strange what a person remembers.  

My earliest years seem almost a complete blur, but there are certain things that I remember very clearly.  I remember my basement flooding and all of our toys floating around in the water.  I remember my single line from one of my childhood church Christmas readings (“And the Shepard’s watched their flock by night”).  I remember one Thanksgiving when it was very warm and I was playing with my G. I. Joes outside at my grandmother’s house.  I remember playing with my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures and accessories (and let me tell you, I had it all–from Shredder’s hideout to gallons of Ooze to an actual, function pizza-throwing-mobile) for a whole afternoon with my Dad on Christmas morning.

Perhaps one of the most disturbing things that I remember from my childhood is this story.  When I was a young kid (this happened when I was about 4 and my brother was 3) it was not uncommon for my parents to bathe my younger brother and I at the same time.  Quite frankly, I don’t blame them–we both liked baths.  If we bathed separately it would easily take 3 hours to get  us both in and out.  My parents were far too patient.

So one night, my brother and I were in the bath along with about 30 Ninja Turtles  and 10 inches of bubbles.  We were just chillin, planning an secret attack on the Shredder like always.   It was a good night.  

After a while my dad got sick of sitting on the sink making sure we didn’t drown and told us that it was time to get out.  Not wanting to quit the war we had going on, I instinctively grabbed for Leonardo–he was totally bad ass.  My brother had already gotten out, so my hand dove under the bubbles to grab my toy.

This is not what ended up in my hand.

No.  Instead, I pulled up my arm only to find that I had grabbed a handful of shit.  As I looked around in confusion, I realized that I was surrounded by a bathtub full of these brown torpedoes.  So I did what any 4 year old would do–I started to scream.

Apparently somewhere between drowning Donatello and making a bubble beard, my brother thought it would be a good idea to take a dump in the tub.  Good plan.  

The sad thing is that this is probably one of my earliest childhood memories.  And I still can’t take bubble baths.

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~ by sisypheanfeat on 12 March, 2009.

2 Responses to “Remembering”

  1. I read this during class and had to put my fist in my mouth to keep from bursting out in laughter. Too funny.

  2. Oh my god. I would probably still be avoiding bubble baths myself, even though I love them. That is so traumatic and so funny. Like Shaba, I’m in class… thanks, buddy.

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