At one time I was employed by one of the local and very important and popular chiropractors in town.  She was an absolute gem.  She befriended me when I was 18 and a patient of hers.  Anyway, much later, somewhere in my mid-twenties when I had tried teaching and hated it, she found a spot for me in her office.  I was able to use the knowledge I had in physical education to do x-rays and help with physical therapy.  Either way, that’s not the important part.

The important part is that her children were mostly at the office with us.  They had a sitter who would stay in the back of the office with them but on occasion when she didn’t show, we all just basically took turns entertaining and watching the children as we worked.  One of the many perks of the job.  Playing the children really broke up the work day many times.

This doc now has four children, but at that time, there was just the two oldest, boys.  When the second child, WD, was approximately 3 years old, he commenced to pretending to build a plane.  They traveled quite frequently so he knew his way around an airport and an airplane.

Moving right along, he had small chairs like in a daycare setting and he was lining them up.  He was assigning the employee’s duties as parts of the plane.  Of course, everyone was too busy to actually sit in the chairs they were assigned but this didn’t slow down his pretend play.

Finally, after one worker was given the important job of being the wings (a preacher’s wife no less, who else would qualify), one worker was to be the nose, one the tail and his mom to be the pilot.  Great, where did that leave me?

And, so the conversation began.

Me: “What part of the plane can I be?”

WD:  “You are not going to be part of my plane.” (the children really liked me, I was the one who gave horseback rides and such, but they also knew that I picked at them and they had perfected the art of bullying me in return)

Me: “But, I want to be part of your plane, why can’t I be something?”

WD: “Because, there’s no room for you.”

ME: “But, I can be the wings?”

WD: “No, I have wings already”

blah blah blah about each part of the plane

Finally, I convinced him that I HAD to be part of the plane or I would be crying.

Me: “Please, WD, let me be part of your plane, please oh please?”

WD: *exasperated by my persistence* “OK, you can be the bathroom.”

Laughter filled the office and for months I was known as the plane’s toilet.

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Just one of the stories I plan to share here on this blog as time permits.  As the life stories come to me, I hope to bring them here to you.  Obviously they won’t be in any order but they will be archived by chapters which should help with organization.

If you have a particular story that I’ve told on another blog that you think might fit here, please remind me, I’ll happily take another trip down memory lane.