Some of you know that Bob and I had a sweet little boy who was 4 years younger than Linda. We lost him before he was 3 years old when he had to have his tonsils out and his heart stopped during that procedure. This was the worst day of my entire life, and was one that a person never gets over.
Bobbie was a darling little guy, but he was the opposite of Linda. She was so good, and if we told her to not touch, she would obey. But Bobbie was different, he liked to try us every chance he got. Our friends got one of the first big color TV sets back in 1956 and we used to go to their house once a week and watch wrestling. (I don't know why, I can't stand it now) Our friends were so proud of their TV and wanted the kids to not go near it. Bobbie would dash over and turn any dial that came into his little hands. We would spank him and say no-no, and before the tears were dry, he would go back and try it again. He was fearless.
Our son was also very hard on beds. When he went to bed he never went quietly, but would jump on the mattress, or get on his knees and rock while bumping his head against the head board. By the time he was two we had to get a new mattress for the crib. His had holes in it from his jumping. One night we put him to bed, and we never heard a sound from him. I thought he must have been extra tired because he was immediately quiet and I thought was asleep.
Linda had a parakett, and she loved that little bird so much. Once in awhile we would turn him loose in the evening and let him exercise a bit. Well, when I went in to check on Bobbie and to see if he was covered up for the night, what a sight I saw. He was sitting up in the dark room and had the parakeet in his left hand, and with the other hand he was pulling all the feathers off that bird. There were feathers all over the room.
That little naked bird sat shivering in his cage for days after that. He lived, and didn't seem to have any bad effects from having been plucked, but he spent a cold winter.
We learned after that to check on Bobbie if he went to bed quietly. This was not his nature, and we did not want any more close calls for the parakeet.
3 comments:
Margaret,
I did know that you and Bob had a little boy who had died. I know it is still something that breaks your heart...and remains in your heart all of your days...and tugs at your heart at any time that you "cast your eyes over Jordon" and contemplate what our Lord has awaiting us there. So I thank you for shairing your heart...I'll bet there is not other story that has been so hard to write.
I think your little Bobby and my husband, Ken, must be kindred spirits. When Ken was 5 he was very ill for a year and had to stay in bed at ALL times so they put a hospital bed in front of the living room window so he could look out. One day as he watched his grandparents etc. kill and pluck the chickens, he thought that if the chickens needed to be plucked then probably the pet parakeet needed plucking too....which is exactly what Ken did. He was proud to present it to his parents but Tweety soon went into shock, hypothermia, etc. Alas, he did not make it.
Seriously, Margaret, thank you for sharing your Bobby with us.
Love,
Gloria
aka Nana in the north
Gloria, how sweet you are. It is hard to imagine Ken ever being a sickly little guy. It was a surprise to read that someone else experienced the same trial we did with our parakeet. Ha !
I hope your and your family have a wonderful New Year.
Love...Margaret
Weelll....Margaret, I said Ken was sick, but I did not say that he was ever LITTLE. Since he grew up to be 5ft. 17inches tall I have a pretty good idea he was never what ones calls petite!
He had rheumatic fever for a year and so was confined to a hospital bed in the living room where they could care for him etc.
Love to you,
Gloria R.
Post a Comment