Three Little Monkeys

Ok, the time has come for A Story, in which you find out what a funny little kid I was. I never got to go to Disneyland as a kid, but once my aunt Carol brought me back a t-shirt and some Mickey Mouse ears. Y'all. I wore that t-shirt to tatters, and often was seen riding my Big Wheel around the neighborhood in my black plastic Mouseketeer ears (Y'all know the ones - remember that creepy black fabric that made up the hat itself? I still get nightmares).

So anyway. When I was little I went by Jenny, my middle name was Lynn and my best friend was Jennifer Jo, so we were Jenny Lynn and Jennifer Jo. I had crazy Napoleon Dynamite hair and a ratty Mickey Mouse t-shirt and she had smooth blond hair like my plastic Barbie and a ratty pink nightgown. (I called it a nightground.) We were four. We used to get into all manner of mischief, like Staying Up Past Midnight To Watch Planet Of The Apes! Also Eating Doritos! Also Jumping! On The Bed! Our moms were friends - they would stay in the living room talking and we could do whatever we wanted. The possibilities were endless.

So Jennifer Jo had this bed. It was metal with all kinds of scrolly things in the headboard and the metal scrollies were about an eighth of an inch thick. It was painted white, and there was a center silver medallion shaped like a flower that held them all together. The bed was angled into a corner of her bedroom and the bedspread was pink, because y'all, it was the 70s, and pink was for princesses. And that bed was mighty good for jumping.

And we loved jumping on that bed. We jumped and jumped and shouted THREE LITTLE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED, ONE FELL OFF AND BROKE HIS HEAD. TOOK HIM TO THE DOCTOR AND THE DOCTOR SAID, THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR JUMPING ON THE B-

And wouldn't you know it, I fell. Pristine, perfect, tiny Jennifer Jo did not fall. But me, I went Napoleon-hair-over-Mickey-Mouse onto the headboard and smashed my lip into the scrolly things. Fortunately or unfortunately, our Moms were Nurses. (Which meant no fooling them on days I wanted to stay home from school. You could only stay home if you had a Fever.) Once our Moms determined I wasn't going to die and got me some ice, they cleaned up the bedspread and we got a talking to and I forgot all about it.

Until I was seven and my front tooth started coming in crooked. Mom took me to the dentist, who always breathed loudly through his nose and smelled too clean for any human, and who scared me to death because he was always giving me flouride in those vile little tooth trays and I swallowed it and barfed all over his office. Going to the dentist was very traumatic for me, and I remember him leaaaaning in to tell me and smelling all soapy they were going to CUT MY MOUTH OPEN and take out the little flap of skin (frenulum) that held my lip to my gum. I was petrified, but after a little gas and a lot of Novocaine it turned out to be one of my better dental visits, and no puking! I had three stitches and a reminder from my Aunt Ester to push on the crooked tooth so it would remember to grow straight (it did). I don't know whatever happened to the bedspread or Jennifer Jo. And if I don't remember to hold my lip down my smile is gummy. Occasionally I have dreams where my front teeth fall out (in one I replaced them with Lee Press-On Nails.)

Now I have a 13-month old niecie who is just learning to stand properly and is very wobbly. She likes to lean on the dog a lot, and the other day she was leaning on him and he walked away, and she fell like a ragdoll and hit her head smack on her daddy's computer chair and y'all. Busted her frenulum just like her auntie. The doctor doesn't think it will be any trouble. But I hope her hair grows in big and curly and I'm going to get her a Mickey Mouse t-shirt.

Because, DORITOS. And Planet of the Apes! Charlton HESTON!!!