“Just wait until your father gets
home!” I wish I had a dollar for every
time I heard those words growing up. I
would be a millionaire. Funny thing is,
my father did come home but not a word was said about my imperfect behavior
that took place that day. You see, back
when I grew up, mothers threatened their children throughout the day but when
the father walked through the door, it was daddy’s time to relax after a hard
day at work. It was also our time to shine as the perfect children.
I
don’t remember what I had done to deserve that threat and I’m pretty sure that
whatever I did was at the instigation of my older brother. After all, he was
the tormenter and I was the innocent younger sister. Regardless of what I had
done to deserve the threat, I was chased throughout the house with “thirty-six
inches of terror”. Those inches happen to be a thick yardstick and I have to
admit, I was deathly afraid of getting smacked with it. The smack never came, however, and after
several hundred times of being threatened with it, I finally realized it was
just a threat. Whenever I see a thick yardstick, I get a smile on my face.
