When I write these things, I seldom if ever have a plan. It usually entails me filling a glass with ice and vodka late on a Sunday night after the kids have gone to bed, sitting down at my desk, and writing whatever pops into my head. I don’t do any research, take notes, or prep in any way. That would imply that I was a legitimate writer, and we all know that’s not true. I’m just a goof with a checkered past, a lot of old stories, and an overly inflated vocabulary which I use as a weapon to try to trick you into thinking I’m smarter than I am. It just so happens that I also have my own weekly column. With all that said, oftentimes the inspiration for my writing comes from some unexpected sources.
This week I was inspired while sitting on the living room floor playing with my soon-to-be one-year-old daughter. She has one of those educational toys intended to teach her animals, what they look like, and what sounds they make. I believe anyone born in the last fifty years has had a similar toy. With this one, you push the button that coincides with a particular creature, and the toy tells you the name of that animal, makes its sound, and the beast does a little song and dance. My baby is enamored by this apparatus, and she seems increasingly receptive to the knowledge it imparts.
While we were playing with it the other day, something about it triggered a couple of fond memories from my past. I was reminded of two stories, one from my own childhood, and one from the formative days of my eldest offspring. I’d like to share them both with you, if you’ll indulge me. I’ll try my best to fit them both into this week’s article. It’s no secret though, that I have a penchant for being a bit overly verbose so this may be part one of a deuce.
I was the youngest of three siblings by about ten years. My brother was eleven years older than I, and my sister was nine years my senior. So we’ll split the difference and call it an even decade. With this much of an age gap, and the two of them working as a team, I spent a large portion of my childhood as a human toy. In many ways I was simply a prop for their entertainment. And I was perfect in this capacity—I was resilient; I didn’t bruise easily; I rarely cried or complained; I was waterproof, lightweight, and I ALMOST ALWAYS regained consciousness before mom and dad got home. It was not uncommon for my mother to come home to find me hanging on the coat rack by the waistband of my underwear. Truth be told, I loved the attention. I idolized my siblings and still do to this day for that matter. It was like having two sets of parents; only one of them was not quite as gentle.
At about two or three-years-old, I too had an educational toy intended to teach me about animals. I believe it was called a See ‘n Say. It was amongst my favorite playthings. I’m pretty sure we all had one, or something like it. Go ahead, close your eyes and take a moment to revisit your childhood… And we continue.
It looked very much like a large plastic clock with a handle at the top, two feet on the bottom, and a string protruding from it with a pull ring at its end. Around the perimeter of this amazing mechanism, where the numbers would be on a clock, were the pictures and names of a variety of animals. In the center was a large plastic arm with an arrow at one end. The intended use for this toy was to point the arrow at a specific animal, and then pull the string to its full length. Once the chord had been pulled, the toy would then tell you about the animal that was being pointed at.
For example: If the arrow were aimed at the picture of a cow, once the string was released it would slowly retract back into the animal clock and a voice would emit from it saying, the cow says… At this time, the machine would say, Mooooo! A brilliant tool to teach young children about animals, if used properly. My brother and sister however, through a series of trial and error experiments, learned some unique tricks with this device that will come into play later in our story.
At about this very stage of my life, my adoring mother was becoming increasingly concerned with some aspects of my behavior. In many ways, I seemed like a normal, fully functional two or three-year-old child. But one thing led her to start thinking that I may be mentally challenged. (It wouldn’t be until three decades later that many of us would discover that her suspicions were warranted.) She had even gone so far as to arrange an appointment to have me tested.
Mom’s concerns manifested when we were riding in the car together. As we would pass various farms and other properties, I would excitedly point out all of the animals that I saw and convey with pride to her how much I knew about them. Here’s where it gets weird… If I saw a cow for example, I would shout,
“Look mommy, a dog. Quack, Quack!”
As any good parent would, she became a little frightened. This odd behavior of mine went on for a while with mom constantly correcting me gently and without making me feel foolish.
Now let’s flash back to sibling playtime. The nifty little trick that Big Bro and Big Sis had learned is that if you pull the chord on the See ‘n Say multiple times throughout its teaching process, at just the precise moment, it drastically alters the information being conveyed. The soothing yet wizard-like voice emanating from the mystical, circular box of beastial knowledge would skip to another animal. Allow me to illustrate how this process worked. I’m looking at the animal clock and the arrow is pointed towards a dog. One of my mentors would give a quick double yank on the chord and the toy would say, the cat says… At this exact moment, another quick tug on the chord would prompt, Moooo! Are you beginning to see where there would be some confusion on my part?
I don’t recall exactly how long this ritual went on before mom finally caught them in the act. I also don’t recall what their punishment was; I just know that after that, no one but mom and I touched the See ‘n Say. Fortunately, by the time I was about 16 or 17-years-old both the physical and emotional scars had healed and I had reprogrammed myself to know the proper sounds made by each animal.
The fact of the matter is that my brother, my sister, and I were then, and still are very close. I wouldn’t trade my upbringing for anything. If nothing else, it taught me to have a sense of humor–without it, you wouldn’t be reading this right now.
Needless to say, I’ve left no room for story number two inspired by my daughter’s educational toy. So barring any unforeseen inspiration, next week we’ll discuss my son’s first trip to the movie theatre. So as always, thanks for playing along everybody.
Until next week,
Syd Nichols
