Sharon and the bookcase

8 03 2008

Yet another childhood story of mine that everyone seems to delight in hearing, God only knows why. But I do love torturing my mother with it.

I had a bookcase in my childhood bedroom. It was a long, heavy thing, maybe 4 feet high. It sat underneath my bedroom window. When I was about 8 years old, I decided one night that I just had to climb partway up this thing to reach something on the windowsill. While I was clinging to the bookcase and straining to reach whatever it was I was hoping for, the bookcase slowly began to tilt toward the ground. Where it landed. With me underneath, waving my little hands on either side of my face and yelling “Help! Help!” I could hear my mother in the living room, so I yelled a little louder, “Help! Help!” To which she replied, with great irritation, “I’m on the phone!!

Since I wasn’t in pain or distressed, just immobile, I patiently waited there. I sang a couple of songs to myself and gazed upon my little hands, trapped on either side of my face beneath the big heavy bookcase. When, thirty minutes later, my mother walked past my bedroom and saw me, she screamed “Oh my God! Are you okay? ” I looked up and said “I can’t move, Momma!” She freaked out, lifted the bookcase off of me, and checked me for bruises. Of course, I was fine. But she didn’t know that. So maybe I milked it for the evening and got a cookie. I don’t remember. But I do remember having to wait underneath a bookcase because she was talking on the phone.

My mother hates this story. Perhaps she thinks it makes her look like a bad mother? I don’t think it does. I find it highly amusing and everyone who has ever heard me tell this story likes to imitate the “Help! Help!” part, complete with hands near face. Especially around my mother. Ha ha!

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2 responses

10 03 2008
Mom

Two postings in one day…don’t you have homework, or something better to write about? (would’ve commented earlier, but I was ON THE PHONE)

10 03 2008
Bronie

you totally know she was telling somebody a story…you know, it was a tuesday, no, no wait, it was wednesday about nine..no, more like 9:30 and i was on my way to work when…

and 30 minutes later, she got to the part where she overcame the morning’s obSTACle and made it to work, all the while you lay beneath a heavy, heavy bookcase with your little hands flailing beside your face, yelling, “help! help!”

this story…it does bring the giggles and tears, because you know the person on the other end of that phone just might have traded places with you. : )

oh, i kid. i do love me a good “connie” story. and a comfortable chair.

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