A Childhood Memory

When I think about my childhood, I remember the kids my mom babysat. She kept children at our house during the years before I started school. This group of young people consisted of four girls and one (probably miserable) boy.
The other kids and I played outside a lot, and we got in trouble frequently. I remember dragging out all my parents' LP records and laying them out on the living room carpet. They were to serve as "stepping stones" in an imaginary alligator swamp. Mom walked in before anyone stepped on a record, and I'm glad she did.  ABBA Gold and Harper Valley PTA are probably worth a lot of money now.

The other kids and I fought often. I never really had to share on a regular basis, so learning to share with my four new "sisters" every day was difficult. I've been told, after all, that I was the biggest brat in Decatur County.

The most unforgettable moment from my childhood was when our neighbor's bees escaped the white wooden boxes that housed them. I don't know a lot about bees, so I don't know why or how they got out. We were most likely playing a game of Dallas or Alice near the swingset, and I was probably bossing everyone around when it happened. Mom herded us kids into the kitchen, where I watched the bees through the screen door. Everyone was eerily quiet. We could hear the roar of the bees, which sounded like, well, thousands of bees buzzing at once.

Mr. Howard Greenway, the owner of the bee boxes, came wobbling out of his back door. He had his beekeeper suit on, and he awkwardly hoisted up his bee smoker. He pulled the black veil of his hat over his face and began smoking the bees furiously. He pumped the smoke out of the smoker so profusely that all we could see of his yard was a huge cloud of smoke. Then Howard emerged from the fog, waving his arm over his face. Suddenly, his white beekeeper pants fell to his ankles, and he stood out there in red striped boxer shorts, visible to everyone in the neighborhood. Poor Mr. Greenway bowed down and saw that his pants had fallen, and he angrily threw off his beekeeper helmet and ran into his house, but not quickly; his pants were still around his ankles.