The Good Old Days, Weren’t They Horrible

As I visit my children in their homes, I get flashbacks to when my wife and I were just getting started in life. It’s only human nature to reflect on the past and wipe away the worst of times and replace it only with happy thoughts. I can’t be fooled.

As I played with my granddaughter recently, she smelled of lavender and baby powder, but I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. Babies don’t always smell so minty fresh. I recall early on in our marriage when we were having difficulty balancing our check book. We trotted down to the bank with our newborn son in our arms and met with a bank official. My wife had just fed our son a bottle of milk, apparently the size of Mt. Rushmore according to what happened next. For moments after placing him in my arms, he became the equivalent of a spewing fire hose.

Down the inside of my shirt filling my pockets and even making its’ entry into my jockeys, the lava flow of milk ran unabated. I had now been fully baptized with a combination milk and cottage cheese mixture and I was no where near a bathroom. In fact I was followed out to the car by 28 cats thinking I was their meal ticket.

It was this thought in mind when my wife cooed over how precious and delightful our granddaughter was as she played at her feet. I saw that nostalgic moment creeping in and I was having none of it. As much as I love our new bundle of joy, I cannot be lulled into nostalgia. I love handing them back when mishaps (nature and otherwise) occur.

Some time ago we lost our beloved dog Goldie and my wife has been opining for another. But I remember the whole experience. Between the licks and the barking I recall the interminable walks in the cold rain. It was on these jaunts where Goldie would spent eternity looking for the one pine needle she failed to christen on our last endeavor three hours before. Or the times I was tempted to change her name to Egypt because she left a pyramid in every room.

No I’m far wiser now. While sitting in the living room the other day my wife became wistful and sentimental. She said I miss reaching down beside me and patting her fur as she slept by my feet. I simply responded, “Why don’t you just skip shaving your right leg for a month and then you can pet all the fur all you want. The good news is you don’t shed and you can stay in on rainy days.”

We have marriage counseling scheduled next Thursday or I think that’s what she said. I wonder if our counselor will be the nostalgic type too?

About enthusiasmiscontagious

I am an individual who analyzes all facets of life in the hopes of squeezing out some of the humorous parts.
This entry was posted in The Lighter Side Newspaper column and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to The Good Old Days, Weren’t They Horrible

  1. Tesa says:

    Oh funny! No more pets. You can come see us more!

  2. Grace Cox says:

    I agree re the dog. Although mine are outdoors, when these are gone…. NO MORE!

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