September 14, 2011 by bluerosegirl08
Some people cringe away from telling stories about themselves as small children, I try not to. The way I see it it will be much more embarrassing for me if my parents actually get around to telling the stories that if I don’t let myself, with that introduction on to the story.
When I was 18 months old decided to show me the first photograph I had ever seen, it was a Kodak Polaroid of my dad when he was stationed in Korea for the Army years before I was born. I apparently took one look at the picture and began to cry and wail with the force of a small banshee. My mother tried to the next 45 min. to calm me down, to no avail. My 18 month old brain had somehow seized upon the logical fallacy that my dad had been literally shrunk into the photograph and was now two dimensional and therefore I would never see him again, hence why my mother’s frantic pleadings did not help. She finally called my dad at work (he was a manager at Burger King at the time) and explained (with me still shrieking in the background) that he had to talk to me and reassure me that he was not stuck forever in a photograph and that he would be coming home from work. I think she had to explain it twice before it actually sank in how upset I was. I seem to remember being totally relieved at hearing his voice and I’m told that when you finally did come home you couldn’t have pried me out of his lap if you had used the Jaws Of Lifel