Mining Our Memories – #TeachersWrite

As she stood behind the garage looking at what she and her friends had accomplished over the past hour, she felt a sense of pride. They had worked hard to complete this masterpiece.

They had discovered that handheld paintbrushes would not allow them to get high enough on the wall and that the driveway brooms could reach much further up.

They had run out of mud and one of the boys had come up with the idea of pooping and using that instead-it had worked perfectly.

They were done, and it looked phenomenal! The entire back of the separate, white garage was covered in dark brown. The entire thing! The mud, and poop, clung to the white boards, the off-white cask of the paint coming through, but pretty much the back of the garage was brown.

Melissa stood back and looked at her friends with such a sense of accomplishment. They had worked as a team, critiquing areas and making sure every inch was covered. They had plotted and schemed and overcome problems. And finally, an hour later-an entire eternity if you think of it from a 4 year old’s point of view-they were done.

Her little brother, Jeremy, came toddling back where they stood and looked at her project. In his quiet little 2 year old voice he said, “Mom’s coming and she be mad.”

“No she won’t,” she insisted. “We made this.”

“OH MY GOD!” and then a screamed exploded from her typically calm mom. And then the SWAAP of her hand hitting Melissa’s rear end. The sting that followed wasn’t that bad because she was wet and clothed in the backyard, but it was the prelude to what was to come and it didn’t bode well for her ability to sit later. Her friends scattered, all four of them, and left her alone with her mom. She couldn’t blame them, but this was going to go South quickly.

Melissa’s mom grabbed her upper arm in a vise and dragged her into the house. The shower was cold, but went quickly, and Melissa was tossed in her room to wait for her dad. She sat quietly and still, very very still, on her bed waiting for her dad. Maybe if I don’t make a sound, they will forget I am here.

What Melissa didn’t understand is why her mom was so mad. They had gotten all of it covered?


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