The True Adventures of Little Kathy - In Which Kathy Proves She was a SCAMP

Little Kathy at 4

Well, when Kathy was a girl of 4, she loved to get up early.

I mean early. 6 a.m early.

Particularly if everyone else in the neighborhood in Salt Lake was still asleep.

Little Kathy at 6

Not even my cousins know about this one. Nor my sisters, I think.

Kathy would put on her plaid jumper with suspenders, Mary Janes and ankle socks, clip a barrette of some fashion to her wild, woolly dark locks and bolt out the door.

Mommy asleep? Check.

Daddy asleep? Check.

Great. Kathy was out the door and into the garage, using all her 4-year-old girl strength to open the garage door (being careful not to disturb any spiders still sleeping at that late hour).

Kathy pulled out the manual lawnmower and let it run down the back yard into the front yard and down the hill into the street.

A very busy street. Oh my.

Kathy did not mind. Half her job would be done for her.

The downhill part.

Now all Kathy had to do was run into the street (like her parents told her NOT to do) and retrieve that heavy lawnmower and pull it up the small hill in the front yard.

Which Kathy did.

But the most fun part in all this, was letting the lawnmower run itself down the small hill and into the street near the corner of 13th East and 7th South.

This was a street with two lanes in each direction and a stoplight that had at least 3 lights. We are talking quite a while ago.

Cars honked. Drivers in cars pointed their fingers at Kathy and honked again.

Kathy waved and said, "Hi!"

This is a true story. I kid you not.

I mean, would I make up something like this?

Nooooo.

Anywho.

Kathy, with her green/brown plaid jumper and bright red barrette stuck somewhere on her  wild and woolly dark locks, ran into the street and did the following:

Kathy stood in the middle of the street in front of traffic, with her hands on her hips and held her hand - palm forward - right out in front of her, as if she were a bleeping traffic cop!

"STOP!!!" Kathy yelled.

Which the cars did.

From time to time, someone would get out of their car and wag their finger at little Kathy and admonish:

"What is your name little girl, where do you live and don't you know you could be killed doing this? Do your parents know you are doing this?"

Kathy simply said in reply:

My name is Kathy and I live right here (pointing to the white stucco house); I won't be killed and my parents are still asleep. That is why I am doing this. I KNOW they wouldn't let me mow the lawn myself, but when I tell them I have mowed the ENTIRE front lawn, they will give me extra allowance.

Well, well, they would cluck. Seeing as there seemed to be no stopping Kathy, they would return to their cars and drive away.

And Kathy would retrieve her lawnmower and push it back up the hill.

It probably took a good hour to mow the lawn this way. Maybe two.

Once or twice, Mommy and Daddy woke up and went looking for Kathy.

Hearing some kind of disturbance in the front yard, Mommy and Daddy were clued in as to where Kathy might be.

But they had no idea as to what Kathy was doing.

"Kathy," Mommy said. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Mowing the lawn, Mommy."

Bad question. Wasn't it obvious?

Daddy was more direct.

"Firecrackerl" (Daddy always called Kathy by his pet name for her,  Firecracker - because, well, Kathy did resemble a firecracker with behavior like this) Get out of the street, damnit!"

Ooh, use of that one little D-word got Kathy running into the house.

But it did not stop Kathy from doing this several more times that summer.

The next year, Kathy was either more grown up or too busy.

I think she was too busy. She had graduated from pre-school to Kindergarten.

***

Continued from Hi, My Name is Kathy, and ---

Another installment of The True Adventures of Little Kathy coming soon.

Reposted.

Copyright © 2007, 2008, 2009. Kathryn Esplin-Oleski, All rights reserved.