Thursday, March 28, 2013

Before I Was Free

I had hoped to have another post up this week, but it didn't happen. I have been writing posts for the A to Z Blogging Challenge and posting for this week got away from me. I promise this will be the last time I will use that challenge as an excuse. The challenge starts on Monday and I hope you will drop in every day to see what I come up with.

Weekend FunniesIn the meantime, here is the post from one year ago today about me trying to escape from my family as a toddler. Tomorrow, I will post the results from this week's caption contest with Hitler.

I like to think that I have always been my own person. I have my way of thinking, my way of acting and my way of doing things (even if they don't always work). While I can respect the wisdom and knowledge of people that came before me, I like finding my own way. This started at a very young age.

Never a slave to conventional dress,
I found my style early on.
Much to my parents dismay, the pastel colors and little duckies on my clothes just were not acceptable to me. After much deliberation (mostly on their part since I couldn't talk yet), I compromised.

I was gangsta,
before gangsta was cool.
At the age of 18 months, I began to change my own diapers. This was not a modesty issue. We know from past posts, I still don't have any modesty. No, this was part of my unrelenting desire to become my own man.

I demanded this freedom in other areas of my life as well. I knew how I wanted things and would accept nothing less.

Had Mother fixed the steak I asked for,
this would not have happened.

My parents, being appreciative of the freedom I was offering them by my new independence, took advantage of the situation. Since I could take care of myself, they could go out and not have to worry about me. It saved money in babysitters and further taught me self reliance.

Against my wishes, they later decided this was not a good idea.

I invited the neighbor girls over,
but their mom said they were napping.
The cop took this picture after pulling me over.
I was on my way to buy more booze.

After the run in with local law enforcement, my parents had me under their oppressive thumbs and my life was relegated to the boring life of a toddler once again. I endured this for a little over a year before I saw my opportunity to escape.

One Sunday, my family was walking in the pasture behind my great-grandfather's house. It was a beautiful day and the birds were singing. All that open air made me yearn for the freedom that I knew I deserved. After all, it had been over three years since I had escaped from the suffocation of the womb. How long should I be expected to play the part of cute pet? I knew today was the day and began looking for my opportunity.

As we approached the top of a hill, I observed a wide open space before us. This was the place to make a break for it. If I could make it to the tree line, I could disappear and live off the land.

Being acutely aware of my short stature (darn stubby toddler legs), I knew I would need a head start in order to not be caught. The large descent before me would give me the opportunity to gain speed quickly. If the parental units could be distracted for a few moments, I would have the edge I needed.

I pointed at a cloud and babbled in that way that adults think are so cute. When they looked up, I bolted for the bottom of the hill. I was able to get close to the bottom before they realized I was gone. Only a few hundred feet more and I would be free forever.

I looked back and noticed that they had taken pursuit and were screaming for me to stop. They must have been aware of my intentions because they were much more frantic than usual. My father was closing in fast, so I concentrated on my departure.

Upon reaching the bottom of the hill, I tripped and sprawled forward. My tumble caused a white hot dust to come out of the ground. I quickly found it difficult to see and began to cough. I then realized that I had been duped.

My great-grandfather had anticipated my plan the night before and laid out a trap. He had burned a large brush pile after clearing out some trees. Knowing this was where I would most likely make a run for it, he placed it in the valley before the trees.

The entire pile had been burned to the ground and the only evidence of the preceding days events was the white ash on the ground. In my haste to get away, I had not noticed what I was running toward. The fire was out, but the coals were still crackling hot. My hands were now holding up the rest of my body from being burned, but my center of gravity did not allow for me to stand up and remove my hands from the burning.

Was this going to be the end? Would I slowly disintegrate into the pile eventually engulfing my entire body? I had underestimated the deviousness of my guardians.

My father snatched me out of the fire. I knew they were disappointed that the trap had not worked properly. He was going to throw me in and finish the job properly. I held my breath and waited for the heat, but it never came.

My father ran back to the house as the heat in my hands began to grow to intolerable levels. After a quick clean up, they rushed me to a hospital. The doctor's did horrible things and then bound me so I could no longer cause any trouble. My parents' plan to end my independence was complete.

I could no longer change my diapers.
Without the use of my hands, I had to humbly allow my mother to feed me and take care of my bathroom issues once again. I couldn't even use my toys. My life was going to be dependent on them forever.

My dog didn't even respect me any more.
Two days later, I was returned to the hospital and thrilled to learn that they were removing the hindrances that had been placed on me. However, my hands and fingers had doubled in size and were covered in blisters that stood over an inch tall. My hands still didn't work. Then they held me down and bound me up again.

They teased me this way every few days. The doctors would take them off and then replace them. I finally understood. They were trying to break my spirit.

After a few weeks, I falsely admitted compliance. Satisfied that I would not attempt escape again, they freed my hands. It was several years before I tried again.

It didn't go well either.


  1. Amazingly enough, that ADORABLE mischievous smile and the sparkle in those eyes arestill there!

    1. Thanks to hours of practice every morning in the mirror.

  2. You were a handful and then some. All boy is what you are and I raised one of those. Kept me busy and then some as I'm sure you kept your parents busy.

    Thanks for the laughs. ☺

    1. I was the oldest of three and we definitely kept our parents on their toes.

  3. I remember this post and I love it now, as much as I did then. Thanks for re-posting this. :)

    1. Thank you for being willing to read it again.

  4. A rebel from the outset! Beautifully told.

  5. Great story. I loved the photos. Do we ever know what our kids are thinking? My dog didn't even respect me. ha!

    1. Thank you. I had a lot of fun with this one.

  6. This was pretty cool Brett love the narrative and suspense - I assume you made it through okay as you lived to tel the tale.

    1. Yeah. It took me a few months to heal, but I came out ok on the other side.

  7. Oh my gosh, your poor parents! I can't imagine seeing you falling into that hot ash! And those poor little bound up hands. That picture of you hugging the dog almost made me cry. What do you expect? I'm a hormonal woman!!

    Super cute pictures of a very naughty boy :)

    1. Thank you. I really don't remember this, but have heard the story told a hundred times.

    2. And there is probably some laughter mixed with a tinge of fear still in their voices when they tell the story.

    3. Actually, they laugh when they tell the story. How should I feel about that?


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