Black Bobby Pin in a Socket

Published July 8, 2012 by Sandee

I’m at my sister’s.  She has a four year old and a one year old.  She has all the sockets covered.  I think she could do a lot more to child proof the house — enclose both children in a plastic bubble like in the movie — I’m totally neurotic and would do this if I had kids.  That’s why I don’t have any — no that’s not why I don’t have any.  I never wanted any because I just never cared to be a mother. Period. It’s too hard, with covering up sockets and what not.

In the 1960s we didn’t have all this awareness and consciousness about this and such.  You’ve seen those funny little pieces about how the kids of yore didn’t have child seats in cars or bike helmets, etc.  My mother was having a shindig in the living room back in the 60s and I waddled back into my room and plugged the socket with one of her huge black bobby pins.  She happened to be walking down the hall and saw me as I just recovered from the shock of my life.  What did she do?  Probably just pat me on the head before lighting up a another cigarette and smoking up the entire apartment with her friends.  Yep, she smoked, like a chimney when I was growing up.  My brother and I didn’t have asthma either — I’m not saying this was okay.  Just saying.

27 comments on “Black Bobby Pin in a Socket

  • Auntie Sandee,
    My guess is that if it would have been more severe, she would have rushed you in the car, no seatbelt, and drive you to the closest hospital, one hand holding the cigarette, listening to the bakelite radio.
    Le Clown

  • Oh the good old days of neglect…it wasn’t boring.

    I think it may be an age thing- I had my kids when I was relatively young…parented more in the benign neglect vein, I’m not sure if I was just young and dumb or if it just isn’t in me to get all excited about germs and baby-proofing and play dates and helicoptering schedule hysteria….maybe as you get older, you think you can control things more by trying to control things more….hahahaha. wrong.

  • I truly love the way you write, Sandee—it’s so descriptive and funny. I had similar experiences as a kid, not that my parents weren’t concerned about my well-being but they were just different times. And both of my parents smoked like chimneys and I didn’t get asthma either.

    • Oh thank you so much Mme. Weebles! I’m glad that you appreciate my writing — and coming from such a pro, I find this to be the greatest compliment as I’ve said before. Maybe some of the parents who drive themselves crazy with all these protective measures should be reminded about the way people like us were raised.

  • I hear you. Kids these days are so overprotected and overscheduled that they don’t have the chance to find out who they are or learn not to depend on everyone else for everything. This is part of why they don’t have any imaginations anymore.

    Your story reminded me of two childhood incidents. Once, while trying to unplug an alarm clock, my finger slipped into the socket. I got shocked pretty good; my finger glowed blue for a couple seconds after. Another was when I was younger: lying in bed between my parents with the ashtray on my chest. They were both smoking. My mother went to flick the ash off, missed, and it landed in the hollow of my throat. Burned like hell, too. I still survived.

  • Lol, I grew up in the 90s, but I remember a similar (yet different) experience. My brother turned on this gas heater or something . . . I’m not sure how to explain how it worked, but apparently it made gas come in the house. Then he got told about how he could’ve killed all of us in the house, ha. I remember feeling lucky because for some reason I’d always wanted to turn that on to see what would happen, lol.

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