my escapist past
Many of the stories told of my early childhood seem to consist of the “You got out of a locked safe and scaled the side of a 70-storey building that happened to be on fire and we take absolutely no credit with the fact that you survived to your third birthday and if there is any justice you will have a child that is exactly like you so that we can laugh and point and scream, “KARMA’S A BITCH, ISN’T IT!’” variety.
But there is one story that my mother tells that sort of sums it all up for me.
You know those leashes that parents put on their kids? (If not, please review the above photo. Take an extra moment to appreciate the awesomeness of the monkey.)
When I was but a young tot, my parents used to put two leashes on me.
It seems it was highly warranted.
If they were planning on doing anything that involved not staring at me consistently, they would put me into my playpen, strap one leash on me, attach it to one corner of the playpen, and tighten the strap so it could only reach the centre of the playpen. Then, they would strap another leash on me, attach it to the opposite corner of the playpen, and tighten the strap so it could only reach the centre of the playpen. [See Figure 1]
Figure 1
(Classy picture, eh? I was a very cute stick figure growing up.)
Theoretically, this would confine me to the very centre of the playpen. Once this operation was complete, they felt secure in their ability to proceed about their regular, non-Jason-centric activities.
Ha.
As the story goes, one day my mother plopped me in the playpen, hooked up one leash, hooked up the second leash, tightened them up, and left me to my own devices in the middle of the playpen.
Five minutes passed.
Upon returning into the room, my mother reports that she found me still attached to the first leash, still attached to the second leash, both of which were still attached to their respective corners. So that worked out.
However, I was on the outside of the playpen, spread-eagled, feet dangling in middle air, both leashes taut as bowstrings. [See Figure 2]
Figure 2
Sometimes, I wonder how far I could have gotten if they had given me ten minutes.
…
And now begins the countdown to when Jason’s Dad pops up and refutes this story. Or adds to it. Or tells a different one.
Probably something embarrassing.
…
Hell. This is my Dad.
Probably something REALLY embarrassing.
…
UPDATE: Ah yes. We have the first salvo.
November 16th, 2006 at 5:54 pm
I think it showed great innate ingenuity on your part. However, I am looking forward to hearing your Dad’s version.
November 16th, 2006 at 6:24 pm
Were you Harry Houdini in a past life?
November 16th, 2006 at 6:28 pm
I’m a little surprised you didn’t invert the playpen and walk? crawl? around with it following you like a square, boring puppy-dog.
November 16th, 2006 at 8:01 pm
I have one who is likely to require the use of a leash. Or two! So insoired, your parents, thinking of that. To think you drove them to fits of inspiration. I’ll bet the next step involved duct tape.
November 17th, 2006 at 6:42 am
Ahhhhh you sound sweet! Hope your dad has some photo’s!
November 17th, 2006 at 12:05 pm
I feel *so* bad. If that story were true, what might a childhood like that have done to My Poor Little Guy?
November 17th, 2006 at 12:06 pm
Eeep.
[Hiding under rock.]
November 17th, 2006 at 1:47 pm
Clearly they forgot to stake you to the ground with one of those giant-screw things they (also) use for pets.
And nice hair, buddy. I was going to declare a Longhair Picture Showdown, but not anymore. Yeesh.
November 17th, 2006 at 3:10 pm
Suldog: I fear my Dad’s version. Greatly.
Daisy: Nope. Just really really hyperactive.
RJ: Ten minutes and maybe I would have. They just DIDN’T GIVE ME A CHANCE? *sob*
Lightspring: All I know is that before I could walk they had locks on my doors. This was when I was in a CRIB.
birhsprite: Oh, he has photos. Much to my chagrin. Case in point, go down one comment.
Dad: Thanks. Thanks a bunch. (At least it wasn’t the one in the tub.)
Sween: You’re a handsome devil and everyone likes you.
Mike: If they had known of them, they would have used it. There was the story where I climbed the cliff… good times…
November 17th, 2006 at 3:49 pm
No, it wasn’t the one in the tub, and it wasn’t the other one. I didn’t want to bring out the big guns just yet. Think of this one as a cautionary response.
November 17th, 2006 at 4:01 pm
Hrm. Consider me cautioned.
… But am I sufficiently cautioned?
November 17th, 2006 at 9:32 pm
My folks made the mistake of tethering me outdoors with my slightly younger nephew. I convinced him to unbuckle my harness and took off to watch a hockey game at the rink across the street. Mwahahahaa.
I was also tethered to the clothesline like a freakin’ dog.
Aaaaah, the days when you could tie up your kids and ignore them….
November 20th, 2006 at 9:28 am
Luckily, nowadays you can just let them get drunk. MUCH SIMPLER.
[Furious whispering from offstage.]
What do you mean you can’t let kids get drunk?
[More furious whispering from offstage.]
Oh.
Sorry. My bad.