The morning after our wedding, my new husband and I settled in to open our wedding gifts. At one point, I came across a simply wrapped, rectangular package without a tag or card. Carefully peeling away the paper, I uncovered a used Mead wide ruled notebook. I turned the top cover and immediately started laughing, instantly recognizing my father's humor. It was full of 80+ pages of my full (maiden) name, handwritten, two full names to a row, double sided.
This was none other than the product of my dad's choice form (an effective one, at that) of punishment - writing. To deserve this particular punishment, I had forged a note signed by "my mother" excusing me from volleyball practice due to a "chiropractor appointment." Somehow, my coach figured that my mom must have nicer handwriting, made a phone call to confirm, and I was toast. To maintain some honor, I must explain - I wasn't a terrible kid. We had just moved to a new town, and I was invited to hang out after school with a group of kids in the "in" crowd and I was so excited to be included it seemed reasonable to skip practice, just this once. Anyway, my dad figured that since I was getting a nice shiny new last name, I might enjoy having this keepsake on hand. He was right. It was the funniest gift we received.
This notebook was a bit of a twist. Typically, whatever we were required to write was usually in sentence form and was required to be prominently hung on the refrigerator for one whole week for any and all guests to see -and of course, if there were guests, they received a heads up that they may want to look at the fridge. :)
Among my favorite memories..
~ I will not jump off of furniture (this was my brother's task after a chair ricocheted into the wall while rehearsing a leaping gymnastic performance orchestrated by me)
~ I will not slam doors or my butt will grow larger (I swear I had to write this - it may be been a threat, but my memory is clouded)
As much as I hate to admit it, I can see myself trying this out. Someday, my dad will receive a mysterious letter in the mail, and he will chuckle knowingly as he sees repetitive sentences in a child's handwriting.
This was none other than the product of my dad's choice form (an effective one, at that) of punishment - writing. To deserve this particular punishment, I had forged a note signed by "my mother" excusing me from volleyball practice due to a "chiropractor appointment." Somehow, my coach figured that my mom must have nicer handwriting, made a phone call to confirm, and I was toast. To maintain some honor, I must explain - I wasn't a terrible kid. We had just moved to a new town, and I was invited to hang out after school with a group of kids in the "in" crowd and I was so excited to be included it seemed reasonable to skip practice, just this once. Anyway, my dad figured that since I was getting a nice shiny new last name, I might enjoy having this keepsake on hand. He was right. It was the funniest gift we received.
This notebook was a bit of a twist. Typically, whatever we were required to write was usually in sentence form and was required to be prominently hung on the refrigerator for one whole week for any and all guests to see -and of course, if there were guests, they received a heads up that they may want to look at the fridge. :)
Among my favorite memories..
~ I will not jump off of furniture (this was my brother's task after a chair ricocheted into the wall while rehearsing a leaping gymnastic performance orchestrated by me)
~ I will not slam doors or my butt will grow larger (I swear I had to write this - it may be been a threat, but my memory is clouded)
As much as I hate to admit it, I can see myself trying this out. Someday, my dad will receive a mysterious letter in the mail, and he will chuckle knowingly as he sees repetitive sentences in a child's handwriting.
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