My Dash: Weeks 1 and 2

My friend from co-op school posted a smart idea on facebook the other day along the lines of the poem "Remember the Dash" by Linda Ellis. She suggested that we write one personal/family history story each week as a way to get a jump start on our personal histories.  I am going to skip the "we lived here and I went to school there" part of things and just try to write funny stories from my childhood.  My kids probably already know a lot of these, but just in case we forget they'll be in print. Since I just heard about this I need to do two stories this week to make up for missing the first week of January.

Story #1:  One of my earliest memories was of being either in time out or sleep training. I remember being in my crib and thinking "I am going to try to cry as hard as I can so that mom will feel bad and come and get me."  
Isn't that hilarious?! What a first memory to have. It makes me wonder what my kids will remember about their sleep training and time-outs.

Story #2: When I was little I had a set of metal Shortcake chairs (child size) with red plastic seats and accents.  My younger brother P and I were playing in the basement of the Easterbrook house.  I was probably 6 years old and P around 4.  There were no other young kids in the neighborhood back then and we played with each other all the time. We played a lot and argued a lot.  On this particular day, I was so mad at him, I have no memory of why, that I picked up my Strawberry Shortcake chair and slammed it over my brother P's head. He screamed and cried and ran upstairs to tell mom.  She called the advice nurse or someone on the phone with Paul in her arms after telling me what a terrible thing that I had done and something along the lines of "you could have seriously injured your brother".  P then alternated between crying, smirking, and whispering slyly "Ha! You're going to jail. You're going to jail!" By that time I was crying more than my brother P was.  I have never lived that story down. My brother P still LOVES to tell it.

Lucky me, I actually have a digital picture of my brother and I when we were little. My dad has been digitizing all our childhood photos. Here is one from around the time he came home from the hospital. I was just barely 2 years old.