Most of you might be able to tell at this point, that I like to tell stories and I might exaggerate SLIGHTLY on some details. OK, OK, I exaggerate a lot, but that is what good story telling is!
Well my story telling and exaggerating days began when I was very young! At one point, I stole my Mom’s high school class ring, lost it, and convinced my sister that she somehow was to blame. Unfortunately for me, when she went to confess, my mom revealed that she already knew it was me that lost the ring, so I was caught red handed in my story! There is one story that I created that I am going to tell you all now. I will note a few things before I get started 1) for all those who know me as Nicole, I also go by Nikki 2) the below story did not harm anyone, other than egos… and 3) five year old girls in pig tails are too cute to not believe!
In kindergarten, I had the mom that would come to everything! She dropped me off at the classroom door in the morning; she was waiting outside that door to pick me up in the afternoon. If there was a field trip or volunteers needed, she was the first to sign up. She was actively involved and I was the baby of the family, so it was her last chance to go through the steps (well, at least until grandchildren came around). The day this story began, my mom was out of down (I think some sort of retreat, but that’s pretty irrelevant). This meant that my sweet daddy would be in charge for the week.
Now, I am and have always been the stereotypical “daddy’s girl.” One bat of my eyes and he turns into butter right in front of me! I look, walk, talk, write, joke, everything like my papa bear! BUT, at five years old and prissy as they come, daddy was not the ideal candidate to get me ready in the morning. Perhaps this story was revenge for my mother leaving for the week and letting dad pick out my outfits and do my hair. Needless to say, I was the definition of a hot mess that week. My ponytail had bumps in it, my clothes didn’t match (newsflash daddy, neon orange and baby pink just don’t work together), and my lunch never had a note on the napkin with a heart saying I love you. It was just a disaster! He wouldn’t even walk me to class, just dropped me off and let the safety patrol escort me.
The week started on a good note. I had a good friend in the class and one day, in typical kindergarten fashion, he had an accident. Well, he didn’t have any spare clothes, so I gave him my pink pants with bows (I was a giving kid, what can I say). He really liked them, so I told him he could keep them. I told my teacher “the story” and all the wheels were set in motion!
Mom got back on Thursday night and took over her duties Friday morning, thank gosh!! As we went to school (pink dress, white tights, mary-janes, neatly pulled pack pig tails with pink and white ribbons), I felt whole again! I matched and look as cute as a button! As we pull into the parking lot, mom parks and walks me to my class room. As she peaks her head in the door all is revealed.
My teacher turns white as a ghost and runs over to the door to give my mom a hug. Naturally mom was a little taken back but hugged her anyway. My teacher (we’ll call her Mrs. H) says, “Oh Norma, I am so glad you guys are alright, we are going to help however we can!” At this point my mom is a little confused, “Mrs. H, what are you talking about, of course we are alright.”
Now I am getting nervous. When I told the story, I never realized that mom would find out! I try to give Mrs. H that “cut it out” look, but she didn’t pay much attention to me. Mom sees my friend that I gave my pink pants to (he is wearing them again) and she asks “Nikki, what is he doing with your pants?” Phew, she is changing the topic, all is good. “Oh I just let him have them, mom. He really likes them” I replied. I run to go play, grateful that the crisis was averted; I just figured they would go on and not continue to talk. I was wrong.
“Well, Norma, we are starting a clothes and food drive next week, it will be in the news letter going out Monday.” says Mrs. H. Again, my mom was always the one to help so she replies “Great, I would love to help just let me know what I can do, who is the drive for?” At this point, I think Mrs. H knows something is up “well, it’s for you and your family. Nikki told us all about it.” Crap!!!! I am done for! Mom looks over at me and I hear it “Nikki told you about what?” This isn’t good; I can feel both of them gazing at me. Mrs. H tells mom “she told us about the fire. She says your house burnt down.” Those of you that know me well, know, not only the next words that came out of my mother’s mouth, but also the tone in which they came out. “Niiiiicoooooolllee Luuuuuuuuuuzzzz White!” Uh oh…….
I come over, tail between my legs, and just look up. My mom then explains “Mrs. H, first, we live in an apartment, so our house did not burn down. Second, Terry (that’s my papa bear) caught the stove on fire but he put it out with no damage. I am not sure where she got all this from, but I can assure you, we and our apartment are fine.” Mrs. H just looks down at me, but what can she do “well don’t I feel stupid now, but no one dropped her off or picked her up in the morning and she was just a mess every day, so I just assumed something happened.” I am pretty worried at this point; I think a whipping is going to be in order for this one. To my surprise, they started laughing. Yeah, Laughing. Like I mentioned before, no one was hurt, and the “drive” didn’t start, so nothing really came of this, except this story. Well that and for the rest of the year Mrs. H didn’t believe a word I said. So much for trying to convince her mom was pregnant so I could get an elephant sticker…DANG!!
