The Chatty Way To Whip The Neighbor Kids Into Shape!

I have a picture in one of our photo albums of a neighbor kid I once ran over with the car. Oh, come on. Like you've never wanted to! I don't want to use his real name, so I'll just call him "Rufus." Back in the day when I drove my boys every night for their paper route, he begged to go with us. I refused at first because this kid had a really loud voice. We worked in quiet neighborhoods in the middle of the night and that required only whispering. Every sound echoed. Rufus begged some more and then the boys begged and I was worn down.

So, Rufus and his loud mouth went with us, but with some empty promise of keeping quiet. I had to remind him several times about noise and I remember thinking lots of things like "never again" and "where's a muzzle when you need one" and "wish I could leave him in a dumpster."

In one cul-de-sac, I would slowly drive around as the boys hopped out of the back of the pickup and delivered to several porches. As I made the slow round, I heard a shocking screech, so I came to a complete stop. Rufus had been walking alongside the pickup trying to jump in when he was finished delivering to his assigned porch. Apparently as I made the turn, HE miscalculated and I ran over his foot.

I looked out my window and whispered emphatically, "RUFUS, BE QUIET."

He yelled, "MY FOOT IS UNDER THE TIRE. MOVE IT!"

So, as the good room mother I've always been, I whispered back. "I will NOT move until you promise to be quiet!" (Talk about havin' 'em right where you want 'em!)

He yelled again, "GET OFF MY FOOT!"

I very patiently told him that I would not move until he shut his mouth.

He finally whispered through clenched teeth, "OK."

I rolled the pickup forward, let him get inside and I simmered silently for awhile. He didn't say a word.

I finally asked him if he could feel his toes.

He never came back around much after that. Ahh. Good times . . . good times.