When I was about 4 years old, I was playing with a neighborhood friend. While running in her house, we came upon a little shrine of her grandmother, lit with candles, attended with warm tea. My friend immediately looked at me and said,
I don't know about you, but when I was a kid, and I heard the words, "Don't touch that!", the FIRST thing I wanted to do was TOUCH IT. I was incredible.
I knocked over the grandmother's tea.
I know childhood memories can often be clouded by trauma, but prior to the tea spilling, I visualize my friend as this spunky, fun-loving Vietnamese girl.
Immediately after the tea spill, I remember her turning into some creature out of a horror movie. She said four words I will never forget.
I tossed and turned many a nights after this, wondering anxiously if I was going to go to hell.
It made me question the fairness of the universe. I mean, if the grandmother was so aggro about me spilling her tea, shouldn't SHE be the one who goes to hell, not ME?
Even to this day, I'm a saint when it comes to children spilling my tea!
But before you give me an award for being the noblest, kindest woman in the world, I must confess to the following:
Flash forward to when I was a little older: My brother Eugene and I started fighting in our rooms. It escalated until we were both standing with our backs to each other, threatening to pee in the other's room.
I had been bluffing the whole time, but I turned around and to my horror, found Eugene peeing all over my room.
I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I took one look at his relieving face.
He was not going to stop peeing.
I ran downstairs and yelled for my mom, but it took a few times until she FINALLY responded.
We ran upstairs to find Eugene finishing up. Pee was everywhere- on my carpet, on my bed. Wet drops were glistening on my Bible.
I suppose there are many angelic responses I could have had.
And the moment I said it, I knew I shouldn't have.
I just couldn't help myself.
I don't know about you, but when I was a kid, and I heard the words, "Don't touch that!", the FIRST thing I wanted to do was TOUCH IT. I was incredible.
I knocked over the grandmother's tea.
I know childhood memories can often be clouded by trauma, but prior to the tea spilling, I visualize my friend as this spunky, fun-loving Vietnamese girl.
Immediately after the tea spill, I remember her turning into some creature out of a horror movie. She said four words I will never forget.
I tossed and turned many a nights after this, wondering anxiously if I was going to go to hell.
It made me question the fairness of the universe. I mean, if the grandmother was so aggro about me spilling her tea, shouldn't SHE be the one who goes to hell, not ME?
Even to this day, I'm a saint when it comes to children spilling my tea!
But before you give me an award for being the noblest, kindest woman in the world, I must confess to the following:
Flash forward to when I was a little older: My brother Eugene and I started fighting in our rooms. It escalated until we were both standing with our backs to each other, threatening to pee in the other's room.
I had been bluffing the whole time, but I turned around and to my horror, found Eugene peeing all over my room.
I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I took one look at his relieving face.
He was not going to stop peeing.
I ran downstairs and yelled for my mom, but it took a few times until she FINALLY responded.
We ran upstairs to find Eugene finishing up. Pee was everywhere- on my carpet, on my bed. Wet drops were glistening on my Bible.
I suppose there are many angelic responses I could have had.
And the moment I said it, I knew I shouldn't have.
I just couldn't help myself.
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