I was six years old (soon to be seven) when we stayed at Grandpa's. My first sister, Rosalie was four, due to be five in mid-September. My first brother, Kenneth was two and wouldn't be three til January. Catherine, my second sister was to be one in November.
We had a tricycle to ride there at Grandpa's. I don't remember whether it belonged to us or it was part of the things Grandpa let us use. It was alright to ride it in the area between the summer house and the regular house, but there was to be no riding on the other side or the front of the regular house. Grandma and Grandpa had a vegetable garden and flowers on the other side and flowers in front of the house and they didn't want us playing there because they feared we would make a mess of things.
My mother had already charged me with the responsibility of knowing Kenneth's whereabouts and keeping him from the forbidden zone. One day, I had been lax and realized I didn't know where Kenneth was. I ran here and there looking for him, finally spotting him on the tricycle riding across some of Grandma's flowers on the other side of the house near the front. I caught up to him, made him get off the tricycle and told him to go to the back of the house and around to the summer house. I didn't want him to get into any more flowers.
For some unknown reason, I decided to walk the trike back by way of the front of the house. After a few steps, I figured I might as well ride it the rest of the way. I was about half way past the front of the house when I was lifted up from the trike with my arm in the grip of Grandpa. While he was lifting me with one hand, he was taking the trike in the other and started fussing at me for messing up the flowers on the side of the house. I tried to explain to him what had happened but he told me not to backtalk him. He was sure I had done it because he had seen Kenneth at the back of the house and had caught me on the trike. Now, I was making things worse by trying to blame my little brother. He deposited me and the trike at the summer house and told my mother how bad I had been. I got a few whacks for that.
There was a large (at least it seemed large) sheet of corrugated metal lying on the ground out in the back yard and when the sun was beaming down on it for a few hours, it got quite hot. Catherine had begun to toddle and one day managed to toddle onto that sheet of sun hottened metal and set up such a yell as might make your hair stand on end. I ran to see what was happening and saw her doing a dance raising first one foot, putting it down and then the same with the other as she continued screaming. The bad thing was, her dance was taking her farther onto the sheet. I could do nothing because I was barefoot and tender, but there were adults to handle the situation. They just had to take a moment to put on their shoes. Catherine was hustled up and given the necessary TLC for which the situation called.
My thoughts went back to that night sometime before we left Baltimore when I heated my hands, but that's another story.
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