The most trouble I’ve ever been in

Here’s my first attempt to begin the challenge of posting once a week for 2011.  This is the first prompt: What’s the most trouble I’ve ever been in?

It was 5th grade.  I was a saucy little brat, and my mom had me signed up for piano lessons with a fellow teacher-friend of hers.  I remember this day like I remember my wedding day.  It was fall, sunny, beautiful and breezy.  My piano teacher Stephanie was nice enough.  I’d been to a lesson or two of hers.  It had gone o-kay. I definitely had no “raw talent.” And, frankly, I had started piano lessons a little late in my childhood.  Let’s just say that my left hand was not on speaking terms with my right.  I didn’t like failing, though.  I DID NOT like NOT being a natural at something.  Well, 5th grade year, what I was a natural at was socializing and chasing boys.  So, that Thursday afternoon after school during said piano lesson, I socialized.  I played hooky, and I chased boys.

What a beautiful day it was.  I remember feeling so free. and independent. and POWERFUL.  Whew.  Until I saw my mom: marching across the blacktop of the playground, hair blowing in the wind, temper blazing with the sun.  She was as mad as I’ve ever seen her. It was my most blatant act of disobedience thus far in life, and honestly, hence forth.  It may not sound like much to you, and at the time I was actually surprised at how mad she was, but I was grounded, completely grounded for 1 whole month.  And, my piano career was burned up with my social status.  My left and right hands are still not speaking.  Thanks, Mom.  Oh, and sorry about that… blatant disobedience thing…

Thinking about this was fun. I dread my girls going through those 5th grade pre-teen years. I suspect that my feisty little daughters won’t be the goody-two-shoes that I was; so, I pray this is the worst of their offenses.