Sugar and Spice?

When my brother and I were in grade school, we had a babysitter who was a large, older Swedish woman. I have very fond memories of her. Her name was Mrs. Matson. She raised canaries. She gave my brother and me a canary that did not sing. We named him Tweety Bird. Sometimes she would let my brother and me visit her chicken coop with her and we helped gather eggs. We had a very large back yard in which to play, and an old apple tree to climb.

Mrs. Matson loved to sew. She had just bought a new sewing machine, an electric one. The sewing machine had a round ball on the floor that controlled the speed. She could place her foot on the ball and, according to the pressure from her foot, she could control the speed of her new sewing machine. Up until then, she had used the old treadle kind. She also loved her daytime soap operas.

It was summertime, after lunch, and she always had my brother (6) and me (7) take a nap on the carpet in front of the TV, while her Soaps were on. This particular day, she was at her brand new sewing machine on one side of the living room, facing the TV and my brother and I were on the carpet in front of the TV, each with a pillow.

My brother was exhausted and had already drifted off into dreamland, sleeping on his stomach.

I was not very tired. I pretended to be asleep, but curiosity was calling to me. I spied something in the carpet. I reached out and discovered, what I later learned was a hat pin. I moved carefully, so as to not let Mrs. Matson know I was not asleep, I reached out as far as I could stretch and retrieved the hat pin. I held it and examined it. I immediately focused on the long, extremely slender shaft. There was a very sharp point at the end of the hat pin, the other end had a pearl. I tested the sharp point on my finger. My goodness, it was sharp! Where the inspiration came from, I do not know, but I did what came naturally, I guess. I took the hat pin, rolled over to my brother and jabbed him in the buttocks! The resultant, high-pitched, blood curdling scream that came out of my very rudely awakened brother startled Mrs. Matson so badly that she stomped down on that ball that controlled the speed of her brand new electric sewing machine and jammed it!

Mrs. Matson waited patiently for our mother to arrive home from work. We lived in the basement apartment of Mrs. Matson's house. When our mother came home, she would first go downstairs to drop off her purse and any groceries she may have bought on the way home. When our mother came upstairs, Mrs. Matson told her the whole wretched story.

Mom immediately called the doctor. The doctor advised Mom that my little brother should receive a tetanus shot. Our mother took my brother and me, to the doctor's office. I was stuck in the waiting room when the nurse called out my brother's name. Mom took him, sobbing, into an exam room. He knew what was coming. He let out a little cry as his buttocks were again insulted with a very sharp needle.

It took a week for Mrs. Matson's sewing machine to return from the repairman's shop. He told her he had never seen an electric sewing machine so badly jammed up.

Whoever said that little girls are sugar and sweet?