Tuesday, February 15, 2011


Given that I had so much fun writing the two kids in my March release, Second Chance Dad, I thought it might be fun to share a couple stories about raising my two boys. I’m happy to report that they are both now grown and still living thanks to my strong willpower in not killing them.

My youngest son, Justin, was about four when I was trying to teach him and his brother to pick up after themselves. I had held strong for an hour that they could not go out and play until the Legos were picked up. They were not happy.
Justin procrastinated for awhile then strolled into the kitchen where I was cooking and looked up at me with those big blue eyes and said, “You’re getting pretty old.”

I shook my head and said, “No, not really.” I was twenty-eight.

My sweet little blond-headed angel flashed those dimples and continued, “But you’re going to die pretty soon, right?”

In spite of the above story, my youngest son was the sweetest, most loving kid. His older brother on the other hand...When my oldest son, Jeremy, came out of the womb--and I’m not stretching the truth here--they laid that baby on my chest, he arched his five pound, premature little body, looked at me with that steely blue gaze and pretty much said, “I’m not sure who you are, but just so you know, I’m in charge.”

Jeremy was ADD and able to out-logic me by the time he was two. I was on a first name basis with his kindergarten teacher just trying to get him through school. After a particularly bad day, I was trying to talk to him about his unacceptable behavior. He asked how I knew what he’d done. Not wanting him to realize that his teacher was snitching on him, I answered, “A little birdie told me.”

A week later he finally learned to ride a bike. We lived in an extraordinarily kid friendly, small town neighborhood where all the moms watched out for the kids. Jeremy was out front riding his bike with very strict boundaries set that he could only ride as far as one house down each direction. There were kids everywhere as usual, but when I went outside after a few minutes to check on them, his little blue bike was in the middle of the street, but no Jeremy.

The other kids looked around and said he’d just been there. Needless to say, I was frantic. I felt like the worst mother ever. Myself, the other moms and a couple teens that were in the crowd started searching. He was shortly located a couple blocks over where he’d followed a friend he knew from school. He was only missing a few minutes, but all moms surely know the terror that went through my mind. When I got him home, I tried to explain how frantic I was and that he couldn’t just take off like that. Mommy didn’t know where he was and I was afraid.

He looked at me with those penetrating blue eyes and calmly asked, “So why didn’t you just ask that little bird?”

Any other cute kid stories out there?


Leigh Duncan said...

Oh, Pamela, those are wonderful!

Pamela Stone said...

Thanks Leigh. The real justice in this is that the older one now has two boys of his own and the youngest is very much like his father. Rather entertaining to watch.

The youngest has two sweet little girls.

Vicki Batman said...

That's so priceless, Pam. I am amazed I survived having boys.

Anonymous said...

My daughter called many years ago with this story. Her son, Travis, was usually in trouble for one thing or another at school. When she picked him up, his teacher came over & told him to tell mom about his day. He hung his head and said, "I had 3 time outs." She replied, "Travis! You were doing so good this week. Why?" He looked up & said, "Mom, It was bound to happen!"

Pamela Stone said...

Hey Anonymous. I've heard this story. This must be my buddy Jean who helped keep me sane and save my son Jeremy's life on more than one occassion.

Anonymous said...

Yes! It's me. I thought you wouldn't live to see thos boys reach 19!! I'm glad they made it!! Wendy couldn't say too much to Travis since he got it from her. Near St. Patrick's Day when she was in Kindergarten, I told her she was Irish. She didn't understand what that meant, so I tried to explain, "If your fmaily came from England, you'd be English; If it was Sweden, you'd be Swedish'; but your family came from Ireland so you are Irish." She looked at me and said, "But mostly I'm devilish."

Pamela Stone said...

And Wendy decended from a long line of Devilish. Ha!

Anonymous said...

Can't argue against that one! But you have been my partner in crime, don't forget.

Estella said...

Kids! It's a wonder we survive them.

Pamela Stone said...

Vicki and Estella, thanks for stopping by. Hope at least you got a laugh.