There are some quotes I would love to share with you. (Of course!) :)
We are being very careful with our children. They'll never have to pay a psychiatrist...to find out why we rejected them. We'll tell them why we rejected them. Because they're impossible, that's why. (21)
Hmmm...well, I suppose that is one way to prevent future psychiatric expenses? Or not... ;)
The twins are four and for several years we have had galvanized iron fencing lashed onto the outside of their bedroom windows. This gives the front of the house a rather institutional look and contributes to unnecessary rumors about my mental health, but it does keep them off the roof, which is what we had in mind. (25)
Ha! I bet it accomplishes all that and more! :)
Ever since Gilbert was born we had been looking for a larger house, and we knew what we wanted. I wanted a house that would have four bedrooms for the boys, all of them located some distance from the living room--say in the next county somewhere.
I also yearned for space near the kitchen for a washer, a dishwasher, a freezer, a dryer, and a large couch where I could lie on sunny days and listen to them all vibrate. (73)
When the children were really small we had a little game. I would say, "Are you my friend?" And they would answer, "I'm your good, true friend."
Well one night when the twins were about three I deposited the two of them in the bathtub while I put the baby to bed. As I was changing the baby on his table, I could hear the sloshing and splashing of what appeared to be an Aquacade in high gear. I called in several times, warning them to stop all the horsing around. Eventually I had to dump the baby in the crib and dash into the bathroom, where I smacked every fanny that was available (and you'd be astounded at how many fannies a pair of twins seem to have).
Then, as I beat my retreat back to the bedroom, there was an eerie silence--broken at last by Johnny, who announced in cold, sinister tones, "Well, she's just lost two good, true friends."
I confess that the enormity of my loss did give me pause. I was unnerved for days. (151)
I swear this reminded me of the time when I was sitting on the toilet and yelled for my mother to wipe my butt and she responded that she would be there in a minute. I then yelled "If you don't come wipe my butt right now, I'll never let you do it again!" As if that was some great honor! ;)
And why, why is the married woman being hounded into starvation in order to duplicate an ideal figure which is neither practical nor possible for a person her age? I'll tell you why.
First, it is presumed that when you're thinner you live longer. (In any case, when you live on a diet of yogurt and boiled grapefruit, it seems longer.) Second, it is felt that when you are skin and bones you have so much extra energy that you can climb up and shingle the roof. Third--and this is what they're really getting at--when you're think you are so tasty and desirable that strange men will pinch you at the A&P and your husband will not only follow you around the kitchen breathing heavily but will stop and smother you with kisses as you try to put the butter back in the icebox. This--and I hope those in the back of the room are listening--is hogwash. (173)
And there are some out-and-out jokes:
A writer I once heard about flew to Evanston to visit his eighty-year-old mother who had just had an operation. Arriving, he met a nurse in the corridor, asked for a report on the patient, and was told that she had made all the routine objections to being put on ther feet five days after the operation but that the staff had been firm, quite firm, and no the old lady was trotting around like everybody else. The writer was deeply impressed. "Good lord," he said, "she hasn't walked in five years." (183)
At 187 pages this was a quick read, though I spread it out over a couple months. I would pick it up and read a story between other books, or else when I was out and about and needed just a short something to read. It worked well for me in that way. It certainly doesn't qualify as a favorite read for me, but it was enjoyable and light. I guess I would call this collection 'cute and quaint'!
Have you read this or anything else written by Jean Kerr? What did you think?