My Deliberate Brattiness~

Odessa (the niece!) has inspired me to share the only deliberate brattiness that I can ever remember exhibiting.  I’m sure I had my moments like any child but I remember distinctly choosing to be a snot when I was seven or eight.

My sister Vyonie and her husband Kelly lived with us just before and just after Odessa was born.  Now, in our family, cartoons were rare even for the kids.  We just didn’t do cartoons.  Kelly, however, did!  I was appalled.  Truly flabberghasted!  An adult watching cartoons?  Surely you jest.  (pun intended)

I decided to stop it.  Mom and dad didn’t put up with snottiness from me so I had to be careful.  I hatched a plan and it worked flawlessly.  I learned which cartoons Kelly didn’t like and then waited for Saturday.  I was ready.

Saturday morning came.  I got up extra early.  Instead of going out in the desert with my black lab mutt Earl, I crept into the living room and turned on cartoons.  “My” cartoons.  Giggle.  Now, I must interject, in my own defense, that I really thought (albeit a bit self-righteously) that I thought I ws helping.

Kelly got up as usual.  He came into the living room, I doubt he was awake enough to realize what he was doing, and changed the channel.  I protested.  “I was watching that!”

Now why he became so obstinate, I don’t know, but he insisted on changing the channel.  This was something I hadn’t bargained for.  I really thought he’d go do something else and I could get on with more interesting things like climbing the  palo verde tree or hunting horned toads. 

Phase two came.  I complained to mom.  Now I have no doubt that mom knew exactly what I was doing.  She’s too bright to be fooled by a seven year old little snot.  However, she must have had similar ideas about Saturday morning cartoons because she said something like, “Kelly, let the girl watch her shows.  She’s the child here.”

Kelly left the house in a huff and I turned off the set.  I have no doubt that he knew I wasn’t interested in whatever it was that I was watching.   I had a great rest of the day roaming the desert with Audrey Pickle and her sister.

You know, I have few memories of Kelly but most of them are good.  I remember him sitting me on his lap in the dark green Oldsmobile they had and letting me “drive” home sometimes.  He spent most of the afternoon one day helping me learn to ride a bike.  How many dozens of times he chased after me holding onto the seat, I’ll never remember but I appreciated it.  I occasionally went to his mother’s house.  I was told to call her ‘Bo Bo’ much to my father’s frustration.  She was a fun woman.

But alas, I was an irritating little snot that Saturday morning.