Me: We’re going camping in North Carolina for a week.
Erin: (long pause & a sigh) Well good luck finding a bathroom. That’s nature for you…
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Mom: Erin told me that before she gets married, she wants her husband to cut IT off! She said she wasn’t going to deal with that.
Me: Well good luck finding a eunuch around here. She’ll have to join a Heaven’s Gate cult to find a man like that…
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Erin: Mom, can I ask you a question?
Mom: What is it?
Erin: Well, you and Dad are getting pretty old right?
Mom: I guess so. What’s your question Erin?
Erin: Well, can I have your bedroom when you die?
Mom: ….
Erin: It’s a nice room…
Mom: ….
Erin: ….
Mom: Yes Erin, you can have my bedroom when I die.
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Erin McScrooge
One time we took Erin and my son to a Monday Night Raw event. My son got hungry and asked for popcorn. I was out of cash and the concession stand wasn’t taking cards. Erin just happened to have a wallet full of cash so I asked her to borrow some and explained I’d give it back to her after the event.
Erin looked into her wallet and, with a skinny finger, fanned through the dollar bills before closing it. She hugged it to her chest and patted it like a child as she looked me in the eyes and said, “No, I think I’ll keep it for me.”
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Erin McFeeley
One day a neighborhood friend and I took a walk around our block with Erin in tow. In most of my childhood memories Erin is never older than 6. It seems like I was about 10 or 11 which would have made Erin about 8 or 9, but anyway…
My friend and I were walking around talking and not really paying attention to what Erin was doing. We started to get to the bottom of a large hill when we turned around to see Erin standing there behind us, little knobby knees healing from minor playing scrapes, missing a front tooth or two from a recent accident at daycare, but here’s the kicker–HER ARMS WERE COMPLETELY FULL OF MAIL!!!
Yes, while my friend and I chatted about whatever it is that 10 year olds chat about, Erin had been opening mailboxes and gathering all of the mail that had just been delivered about half an hour before, leaving it in little piles here and there down the center of the road.
(For some reason, Erin has always had an obsession with the mail. She collected every piece of junk mail that came to our house for years.)
I felt a pang of adrenaline shoot through my neck as I made a mental checklist:
1. make sure no one saw her do it,
2. get Erin home before anyone figured it out.
After a few moments in a huddle, we decided to break and put our plan into action. (It’s amazing how fast kids think when they’re trying to get out of trouble!)
As if tiptoeing through a minefield, Erin carefully laid the last pile of mail down at the bottom of the hill and we slowly backed away from the crime scene, turning finally, to bolt and run as fast as we could home. We sprinted through every backyard, sideyard, creekbed and wooded area we could. There was no telling when Erin started gathering mail. We couldn’t risk confrontation with an angry neighbor!
To my knowledge, no one ever confronted my parents about Erin’s attempt to help deliver the mail and thankfully she never did it again!
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I’m allergic to honey mustard. – Erin
(she’s not, she just doesn’t like it)