Homemade Bubblehead

HOMEMADE BUBBLEHEAD

So today I thought I would share a little memory from my childhood. This is an excerpt from my life story that I am writing. I haven’t decided yet if I will add the entire book to my blog but thought that a few of the stories would bring a smile to my followers.

Many of my fondest memories as well as some of my most forgettable memories include my little brother Michael. Michael is two years younger than I am and we had some incredible times together. On my Facebook page today I shared a story about how Michael had jumped into the driver’s seat of my Dad’s ’58 Ford pick-up and grabbed the gear shift and pulled it down into neutral. Wouldn’t seem like a big deal except for the fact that we were on a hill in a residential area and the oldest person in the car was me. I was the ripe old age of almost 8 years. This meant that I had no idea how to take my Dad’s screaming instructions, “Push the brake!”  Luckily my Dad was fairly athletic and was able to catch up with our rolling truck and thus open the door and push on the brake. I still think that Michael did that on purpose.

A 5 year old couldn’t possibly be that devious, right? Well let me share a little glimpse into why he probably tortured me like this for so many years.

About 3 years prior to the rolling truck incident, when I was about 5 years old, my brother and I were playing on the stairs in our house in Pocatello. This was a pretty common activity for us. Well, this particular day we were riding our rocking animals down the stairs using the rockers as skis. We had two rocking animals. One was a pink elephant that belonged to our older sister, Melinda. The other was a fancy white horse that was mine. Melinda and I had received these for our respective first birthdays. I loved my horse. Many of my oldest pictures that my Mom has of me are upon or near my rocking horse.

After a while of riding we had a small accident followed by a bigger accident. The first accident occurred when I rode the pink elephant down the stairs a little too fast and I crashed at the bottom. Don’t worry, I was perfectly fine and uninjured. The elephant however was now more of a rocking pink pig as the trunk had been snapped off in the crash. I laughed it off and stood up and gathered my balance. I smiled as I looked up at my brother who was laughing at the top of the stairs. He must have thought it was pretty cool. He was also ready to follow in his big brother’s rocking ski tracks.

Quickly I realized that he was preparing to ride the white horse down the stairs. My white horse. I hollered “NOOOOO!!!” and ran up the stairs to stop him.

“Get out of the way!” Michael yelled and he stood up on the horse and began to rock. Just before he began to creep over the top step and sled down the stairs I reached the top and grabbed onto my horse.

“Get off my horse, Michael!” I ordered.

“No, it’s my turn!” Michael screamed angrily.

“I don’t want you to go on my horse because it might break!” I said.

“So what, It’s my turn!” he persisted.

Luckily I was 5 and he was only 3. I grabbed him, lifted him off of the horse and threw him aside. That is when the second accident occurred. When I threw him aside, I don’t mean that I set him down next to the horse. I literally threw him aside. In the air……down the stairs!

This part of the story is only funny today because I know that he didn’t die. But watching him fly through the air missing most of the steps on the way down was easy. The landing however was a little violent. Michael’s head slammed into the concrete floor of our basement and we heard a loud crack. Michael screamed in pain and I was horrified. I hollered for my Mom to come and help. She arrived just as Michael sat up on the floor and turned around.

Have you ever maxed out a bubble with your bubblegum? You know how it gets all shiny and transparent as it gets bigger? Can you picture it? Now put that on a 3 year old child’s forehead. That’s what we saw. A giant bluish purple bubble had grown instantly on Michael’s head.

Mom hurried down the stairs and picked up my brother and carried him back up the stairs. She was out the door and in the car before I could even explain what had happened. Which looking back is probably a good thing.

Later when they returned home, Mom told us what the doctor had said about Michael’s head. “He has a slight concussion, but he will be ok”.

Are you kidding me? Slight concussion? Did the doctor not see the bubble on his head? Did I not hear the crack when he hit the floor? This kid is not human!

When Dad got home he also was concerned for Michael. When I told him that his head hit the basement floor really hard he couldn’t believe it and went to look at the landing platform. There he found something that Mom and I had missed earlier. There, in the concrete basement floor, was a crack that extended from the point Michael’s head had hit, out two directions for a couple of feet. Michael’s head had won. Who would have thought?

I eventually had to tell my parents the whole story and that apparently didn’t go very well because I cannot recall anything afterwards. They must have hit me pretty hard to have me forget completely! Not hard enough for a bubble on my forehead, but enough for a little memory loss!

I never forgot the incident however. Mom had our pictures scheduled that week and sure enough, there is one with Michael and his giant bubble! I’ll post that as soon as I locate it!

So the scoop is, never mess with my horse….and never punch Michael in the head. J