Hour Nine – Dippity-do

Dippity-do

Even though I was

the only girl, with four brothers-

I had very little time with my mother

to just chat.

 

Mom spent many hours a day

with household chores – and I knew

if I hung around too much – she would

find a task for me.

Dusting. Vacuuming. And the

most dreaded: ironing!

 

The one time in the week she spent on girl-time

was Saturday night. She would prop me up on

the kitchen table, put some styling gel on the

ends of my very, straight hair, and set small curls

with metal clips.

 

That was the time I could tell her

a few of my woes. Besides living with all boys,

I also had to carpool into town for Catholic school. Thus,

I knew only one girl in the neighborhood to play with.

 

Besides all that – in every class I was the youngest, due to my

Fall birthday – and most definitely the shortest!

 

I can’t say my mother gave me much advice for

navigating life. But on those Saturday evenings,

with the smell of Dippity-do in my hair – she

made sure I knew that:

“The Best Things Come in Small Packages!”

 

 

 

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