Wednesday, October 19, 2011

The Not-So-Brilliant Easter Idea

Easter Sunday, eight years old. My mom splurged to give me the most beautiful Easter dress I had ever seen: the skirt touched the floor and poofed out like a princess gown, and it was covered in lavenders. I loved it.

In the middle of church, my ear suddenly felt like it was being prodded with hot rods. It shot pain all the way down my neck. I was too embarrassed to tell my parents that my ear hurt, so I tried to keep it to myself… until I started to cry.

My parents saw me cry, but did nothing. I cried from both pain and the sting of betrayal, knowing that no one cared about my misery.

Later, I found out my parents thought I had felt the Spirit and got emotional about my testimony of God. They even whispered to each other about how cute it was. It wasn’t until they ushered us off to Sunday school and I was still crying that they realized something was wrong.

My dad took my home and tried to think of a way to make me feel better. He remembered a nurse told him that if you rub the muscles in your throat that are close to your ear, it soothes the pain. He laid me on the couch and put his fingers down my throat.

He forgot about the gag reflex.

I puked the entire chocolate contents of my Easter basket. Brown goo plastered my gorgeous dress.

So, logically, my dad put my dry-clean-only dress in the washing machine.

Thanks, Dad.


  1. When I was a kid, I was climbing up the shelves in my sister's closet (don't ask why: I can't remember), but I slipped and hit my head on the top of the closet door. I landed on my sister's bed...where she had laid out her spotless white Easter dress...which I promptly bled all over. She was not happy.

    What was wrong with your ear?

  2. I never wore an Easter dress, no matter how hard I begged for one. (Just kidding!) But whenever I had an earache my mother would blow smoke from her cigarette into my ear. For some reason, this always seemed to work.

  3. What ended up being wrong with your ear? An infection?

    Also... I laughed. Was I suppose to laugh? >_>;

  4. Yes, you were supposed to laugh, though my mother certainly didn't. It was just a minor infection, the kind where you take that pink stuff. I've had so many earaches where I had to take pink stuff that they all blend together.

  5. HaHa! I know the pink stuff!!! As child we were biffles!

    Oh! And grape dimetapp that forces me to hate all things grape flavored till my last dying day! My mom used to chase me around the house with that stuff! Ick!

    I also remember yakking all over my dad when he decided to play "horsie". I was six and feeling feverish and my stomach was churning. I kept telling him to stop but he kept doing it anyway forcing me to spew all over him. I would love to be able to tell that memory with fondness for my biological dad, but he was a jerk so... LOL I'd like to think of it as... payback? MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!

  6. It was Novahistine with my folks. I'm with you. I still hate the wintergreen flavor from taking all that stuff. Fortunately the high levels of alcohol in the stuff doesn't seem to have left any long-term affect.


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