Elizabeth and I go way back, in fact, so far back, that in current day as a teen she has little recollection of events that took place between us, although for me, they seem like they just happened yesterday.
When Elizabeth was a little girl, I worked with her mom and like all happy co-workers, we’d socialize after hours on occasion. Quite often Elizabeth got to tag along. Her mom educated her with an impressive vocabulary and incredible set of social manners; thus it was very much a treat to see her. Although, as I’ll reveal now, even back then as a little girl she was still quite the flirt.
One summer day her mom came over with Elizabeth just as my wife had asked me if I could water the yard. Elizabeth wanted to help in order to spend time with me, so I pulled out the hose and we sat on my front steps talking while I sprayed the lawn. It wasn’t long before she asked if it was her turn, so I let go of the squeeze nozzle, shutting off the water, and handed it to her. In retrospect, that was the key mistake.
I recall Elizabeth was about 5 or 6 at the time. But, she engaged the conversation as all women do: with an entrapment.
“Whenever I come over, Tamara is always here.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“Does she live here?”
“Yes, she does.”
It was evident that she was not fond of this answer, as she put her little fists on her hips.
“And why is that? Are you married to her?” Her little eyebrow went up.
“Yes, she’s my wife.”
At that point, Elizabeth scolds me, “You Never Told Me That!!!” and she points the hose right in my face and unleashes gallons of cold water all over me in an instant. And doesn’t let up.
Apparently, Elizabeth’s mom caught a flurry of activity through the storm door and came running, “ELIZABETH!”
Elizabeth shut off the hose, and looked at me expectingly, “Tell her what you just told me.”
And so, I had to apologize to Elizabeth, and her mom, for my big secret.