Once upon a time, when Papa was just a little boy,
something happened that made him decide to run away from home. He didn't know exactly where he was going to go, except that living in bushes seemed to be a good plan, and he had not considered the circus or other regular routes to which children planned to flee. And to this date the Little Papa never retained the exact memory of WHY he wished to run far away from his family, to never see them again, but it more than likely had something to do with getting spanked, and even more likely than that it had to do with one of those times when Dougie was spanked and he was certain that he did not deserve a spanking (but then again, he never felt like he deserved a spanking, and when Dada asked him why he did something that was bad, Dougie usually replied: "I forgot!" which may or may not have to do with the reason why he cannot remember to this day why he decided to run away from home, since he must have forgotten whatever it was chiefly because it had to do with spanking). An even stronger a possibility is that Mama somehow betrayed Dougie, handing him over to his execution (um, his discipline), over to Dada, when Dougie felt deep down in his heart that he had done nothing wrong, perhaps he had just forgotten that he was not supposed to pick Pammy up by her arm and drag her out of the crib, to lower her gently down onto the floor (because this was Dougie's crib, after all, and his little sister looked just as comfortable on the floor as she did inside of Dougie's crib; but then again, Dougie was not quite two years old when Pammy invaded his crib, and so his memories of this mythical event are all hearsay, as he heard his parents say it many times through the years as he was growing up, that he dropped his little sister on her head! He heard it said so many times that he almost began to believe he could remember it happening, although to this very day he perceives a distinct difference between his actual memories and his hearsay memories). He may or may not have dragged her out of the crib, but most certainly did not drop her on her head. At least there was never any evidence indicating the alleged head drop (no dents, neither in the floor nor his little sister's head).
But they had gone too far. Removing Dougie from his crib. Putting that new -- CHILD, inside his beloved crib. And Dougie did not like sleeping in a big double bed, all by himself, with no comforting sides to at least be there when he rolled around (he would often wake at the foot of the bed, under the covers and sheet, utterly lost in the dark, scrambling and snorfling, wildly clawing his way toward the light at the top of the covers). Too, too far, his parents had gone, first with the stealing of his beloved crib, and then administering a spanking on top of the theft (but then again, it might have had nothing to do with the alleged dropping of his beloved sister on her head, it could have had to do with running in the house, which happened quite a lot more often than any alleged head dropping).Who could blame Dougie for packing his bags?Actually, it was just one bag, and actually again it was not a bag at all, but a box. He found a big cardboard box and packed it with several of his most beloved toys, and his pillow, and a big red ball, and his pajamas (which were very cozy, the latest model, including neat little slippers built right on at the ankles, footsies). Thinking ahead, he got a couple of cans of food from beneath a cupboard, and a few other little items of food, two or three bananas, and an apple (he never thought ahead far enough to figure out how he would open the cans of food, as he did not even know how to use a can opener, not the wiggly kind that Dada cranked with his fingers, and Dougie knew you had to be strong to use that kind because he had tried to open a can before, and Dada laughed loud and long while Dougie tried to work the crank; and not even the electric kind, which Mama never even allowed Dougie to try). He didn't take much else, but still, the box was very heavy to lift.In fact he could not lift the box. He dragged the bulging cardboard box down the hall and stowed it under the baby grand piano. He understood that if his parents caught wind of his plans, they would stifle the whole endeavor, because it was obvious that parents were there to do just that, keep you from doing almost anything and everything you wanted to do (and they said they administered this repression out of love!). As evening drew near Dougie kept one eye on the window and the other eye on his parents. A lump was building in his throat, because he knew the time was nearing when he would never see them again, not never or ever, and in truth he did kind of like them, at least most of the time, well, at least Mama.But enough was enough, and there were some things that a boy just had to do if he were going to live with any shred of dignity, and this principle applied doubly to rebelling against spankings. Spankings in general, and specific undeserved spankings. I mean, even little boys under the age of two years understand justice. Getting spanked all the time for imagined wrongs is not justice.When he judged his parents were suitably engrossed in conversation and not paying any heed to little Dougie, he quietly opened the front door, dove under the piano and seized a corner of his box, and dragged his treasures to the front stoop. Marshaling his muscle and with a great heave, he lifted the whole box in his arms, balanced it up on his chest, and leaning far backward, taking step by plunking step out into the cool gray world of Huntington Beach at twilight, he made good his escape.The door closed behind him.He was free. Ah, freedom.He lowered the bulging box to the pavement and looked out into the world. He wasn't sure which way to go. But he felt free! No more spankings. No more little sisters taking over your crib. Life was good.No more crib. Uh, well, just great. Even a two-year-old understands that everything can't be good, not all the time.Oh well, he had his pillow. That should be enough. That would have to be enough. Nodding his head, squinting his eyes, cranking down the handles at the sides of his mouth, he steeled himself for his great adventure.The door opened behind him. Gulping, Dougie looked back. Dada stood there glowering down at him."What do you think you're doing?" Dada demanded, his angry face up near the ceiling."I forgot!" Dougie squeaked.Dada seized the getaway box and drew it into the house. "Get in here!" he commanded.So much for freedom.Dada spilled the contents all over the living room floor as Dougie stood with bowed head, hardening his heart in order to retain his too many tears. He would not cry. No, he was finished with crying. True, they had kept him from running away, at least for now, but they would NOT enjoy the satisfaction of making Dougie cry, never, never, never again!"What in the world IS this stuff?" Dada said, as Mama watched (giggling). "A football helmet?"Dougie thought a football helmet could come in handy, as he knew the world was rough out there. Why in the world were they laughing at him? He knew the spanking was coming, why not just administer the corporal punishment and get it over? Why this humiliation?Dougie stood glaring at them as they pawed through his survival gear. With each passing second his anger loomed. Even the small children with big heads need some tattered dignity to pull close about their huddled shoulders, and Dada wouldn't even allow that, and Mama too, the traitor!But then the surprising thing happened and they were hugging Dougie, and kissing him (even Dada was doing it!), and they kept laughing and tapping the football helmet with their toes. Dougie hardly understood what was going on (but he knew it was better than the spanking he had psyched himself up into receiving). Mama and Dada told Dougie how much they would miss him if he ran away from them. They told him that they loved him. And they told him that they would never stop looking for him, even if he ran to the other side of the world.Great. Even Dougie, with all his determination, had not planned to go as far as the other side of the world. In fact, he had been eyeing the three short palm trees on the front lawn and speculating it might just be the perfect place to camp for about a week. If they were going to be that relentless, chasing him all around the world -- sheesh! -- he figured he was stuck with them, his parents, his Mama and his Dada.Though running away would cross his mind many more times through the years, he would never attempt the feat again (until he was about nineteen years of age, and then Mama and Dada helped him pack, football helmet and all).All Stories © 2009 Douglas Christian Larsen
important - FIGHT THE FLU WITH HERBS - important
