Yeah. It was me.
Perhaps an explanation...
Perhaps an explanation...
Mom had a pair of toenail clippers.
Large.
Effective.
Those suckers could cut through anything.
Well almost anything.
They had sat atop her dresser in a special spot for all of my life.
I had watched Mom use them on numerous occasions. Seated on a chair, one ankle cross over the other knee for convenience and leverage.
Always with a garbage pail beneath in case of accidental drop-age/escape-age.
Followed by the steady sound of clip-age.
Then mom would get to her feet, restore the garbage to its rightful corner, and return those great, heavy clippers back to their place.
Until next time.
And there they sat.
Now, I had borrowed these clippers from time to time.
Usually when I had misplaced my own.
Because mine didn't have a place of honour on my dresser.
Or anywhere, for that matter . . .
Now, that day:
Erm...I was somewhere far out in the pasture! Doing the things I was supposed to be doing!
Not in my parents room snooping around for Christmas presents!
Or at least that's the story I always told my mom.
Ahem.
And it wasn't me who took a straight pin from the pincushion which also resided atop Mom's dresser and tried to clip it with her clippers.
Just to see what would happen.
Resulting in a gap in the very center of the smooth edge of said clippers.
Because--just FYI--in a contest between straight pins and clippers, straight pins win.
Large.
Effective.
Those suckers could cut through anything.
Well almost anything.
They had sat atop her dresser in a special spot for all of my life.
I had watched Mom use them on numerous occasions. Seated on a chair, one ankle cross over the other knee for convenience and leverage.
Always with a garbage pail beneath in case of accidental drop-age/escape-age.
Followed by the steady sound of clip-age.
Then mom would get to her feet, restore the garbage to its rightful corner, and return those great, heavy clippers back to their place.
Until next time.
And there they sat.
Now, I had borrowed these clippers from time to time.
Usually when I had misplaced my own.
Because mine didn't have a place of honour on my dresser.
Or anywhere, for that matter . . .
Now, that day:
Erm...I was somewhere far out in the pasture! Doing the things I was supposed to be doing!
Not in my parents room snooping around for Christmas presents!
Or at least that's the story I always told my mom.
Ahem.
And it wasn't me who took a straight pin from the pincushion which also resided atop Mom's dresser and tried to clip it with her clippers.
Just to see what would happen.
Resulting in a gap in the very center of the smooth edge of said clippers.
Because--just FYI--in a contest between straight pins and clippers, straight pins win.
But now at long last, I'm changing my story.
To the truth.
A little late, but there you are.
I'm telling you this so you don't have to watch your mom, to the end of her days, clip her toenails with a defective set of clippers.
To the truth.
A little late, but there you are.
I'm telling you this so you don't have to watch your mom, to the end of her days, clip her toenails with a defective set of clippers.
Sorry, Mom!
Sigh.
We all have sinned and fallen short of our mother's expectations. My daughter is still feeling guilty about spilling my new bottle of perfume. I feel guilty about everything so there is that. You made be smile Diane. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteLet's see, what did my son do? Let me count the ways....
ReplyDeleteWe all did something, or many somethings. You're a mother, you know that your Mom knew even if she didn't push the issue. She forgave you anyway. It's what mothers do.
ReplyDelete