The Antediluvian Adventures of Noah's Boys: 1. Escape from Mother Earth

Being a Mother was a position I looked forward to for years.   I was the younger child in the family, and the youngest, by far, in my whole “cousinship”; so I had almost no association with anyone smaller than myself.   My neighbors had tiny relatives who visited on occasions and captivated me—entirely.   They were cuter and much more fun than the kittens and puppies I knew, so I always volunteered to push them in their buggies or rock them to sleep.   Those offers were seldom refused as they usually arrived sticky and cranky after sitting for hours in the un-air conditioned sedans of our youth. When I had children of my own, I encouraged them to bring friends to our house to play, and young guests at meal times, after school and overnight were no rarities.   We moved frequently in our early married life and our two older sons did not participate in Cub Scouts, but when we moved to Indianapolis they joined the Boy Scouts.   The Cub Scout tr...

Years ago, my number four son (Donald) uttered one of the greatest truths of all time.   He was barely three years old.   A very quiet child with chickie yellow hair, blue eyes, pink cheeks, and lots of freckles, he was not tall for his age, but his determination for justice was monumental. The first sign of “trouble” was a knock on our door.   An irate mother stood on the stoop ready to knock again on the door—or anything else.   She looked accusingly at me and said “Your son attacked my little boy on his way home from school.”   Naturally, I thought of one of our older sons, but she spied Donnie behind me and said, “There he is, the Little Monster.”   Her tall, extremely well-fed seven year old son smirked at me while whimpering up at his mother, “He knocked me down and sat on me.”   I’m afraid at that point my dignity left me: I laughed.   The angry mother grabbed her son by the hand and left in a huff saying, “It’s no laughing m...