We want to know what, from your childhood, do you still know by heart? Is it a story? A jump-roping song? The number of rungs on the ladder to your tree house? How much money you had to save to buy something you really wanted?Mary and I giggled as we crouched down and peeked to see the goings on in the yard across the street. We had a bird's eye view from the second floor porch of my parent's house at the beach. As we popped our heads over the edge of the porch we could see over the fence where Francis, Michael and Patrick were playing cowboys and Indians with their nanny, she was the lone cowboy.
I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was about to witness something naughty; and I was right. The nanny complied as the boys tied her to the flag pole in the middle of the yard. We really wanted to yell out to her," Margaret, don't let them do it," but we didn't want to give away our hiding place on the porch overlooking the yard.
Then one of the boys ran into the house and returned to the yard with a pair of scissors. To our horror we watched as they cut off her long pony tail; snip! Then they attached her hair to another much smaller pole waving it wildly whooping and hollering as they danced Indian style around her.
"Do you believe what we just saw?" "I can't believe they just did that," we exclaimed to one another. We hid behind the concrete wall of that porch and covered our faces as the feeling of disbelief washed over us.
What was going to happen if the grown-ups found out we didn't stop them, we were older after all; maybe we should have told. Then self-preservation set in; we shared a knowing look then we bolted down the stairs as fast as our tanned legs could carry us away from the scene of the crime.
Running was easier then telling at least in the minds of two twelve year old girls.
Mary and I have been friends for 45 years, her brother Steve my brother Gerard and Francis (the oldest Indian) are still great friends as well. When we all are together we tell this story; it is part of our repertoire of our childhood
And Margaret? She went back to Ireland and was replaced by Mary a more seasoned Nanny who was better equipped to deal with the
That poor, poor Nanny!! Great story!
ReplyDeleteAs a nanny of many boys--and one beauty parlor happy girl--over 12 years, I'm proud to say I know better than to let myself be the lone cowboy.
ReplyDeleteThis is a great memory!
Oh, that's terrible! What a fun memory and story to share, though. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks ladies,
ReplyDeleteThinking back its hard to wrap my head around how boys barely 10 yrs old could be capable of such mischief.
Those were some troublesome boys. Glad they didn't cause more harm, but it does seem like Margaret should've known better allowing herself to be really tied up while the kids came at her with scissors. Yikes.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the way you told this story.
Thanks for stopping by to visit.
And the kicker is they looked like little angels blond hair with freckles.
ReplyDeleteI don't think we told my Mom this story until we
were 40+, she just looked at Mary and me and shook her head and told us we were rotten kids too!
OMG - that's hysterical! Not so much for the nanny..but what a memory to laugh over now!
ReplyDeleteThe laughter never fades Cheryl every time we get together!
ReplyDeleteWhat a telling story.., about the boys, about the nanny, and about you and your own thoughts. You never could have stopped what was coming, and Im sure you realized that later. That you and the neighbors are still friends after so long is a wonderful thing!
ReplyDeleteJenna, Time pretty much disappears when we get together, we're just a bunch of kids again then we laugh our heads off telling that story and many others!
ReplyDeleteI absolutely adore how you told this story! I was right there with you cringing- that poor nanny!
ReplyDeleteAnd those lifelong friendships? Pure fabulous!
P.S. I think I would have run, too! :)
As I sit here with the oldest cowboy he tells me that it was her wish to be a mod. So he complied with a little trim, a role of tape, and a broomstick. After all Squid said these were her wishes. And according to Fransis that's the way it really happened.
ReplyDeleteOh Syd my lovely niece,
ReplyDeleteAll that lady wanted after those three got thru with her was a one way ticket back to Ireland. And maybe a good wig!
I feel the need to chime in here. The pranks didnt stop there! I was a childhood friend of all involved in your story. In my twenties, I ended up sharing that house with Mary's little brother and the oldest indian. During Chrismas time our Chrismas tree was missing a star. So Gerard, Fransis, and Steve took my precious childhood baby doll, ripped the head off the body, shaved her hair, put tooth picks in the hair holes, and lit it on fire! They then proceeded to put it on top of our beer bottle decorated Chrismas tree as I watched in horror as my baby doll burned. They were no sweet freckled faced boys. They were a well organized group of thugs!
ReplyDeleteGerard and Steven remain my best friends and the oldest indian turned into my boyfriend, a wonderfull friend, father, and partner. But on occasion, I still see the idian inside him. (But would NEVER let him cut my hair!)
I hope this makes you laugh!
Honey you all make me laugh. Love you!
ReplyDeleteBless her heart! That poor nanny was poorly unprepared for American boys wasn't she?
ReplyDeleteFabulous story, Jen. Love it!
ReplyDelete