"Get this place when I come back!"
In picture: Jill Elaine, Susan Jane, Mom, Alan Ross, Mark Scott, Dennis Ray --- Not pictured: Lynda Lea and Larry Edward --- (The stuff on my face was infantigo.)
when we Hayter kids were young, “Get this place when I come back!” meant something. Not sure which one of us invented it, but it was genius. Let me explain its importance….say, I was sitting on one end of the couch, prime real
estate for a house full of family, and I needed to use the bathroom.* If I wanted to make sure that nobody was in my place upon my return, before I got up, I would say, “Get this place when I come back!” You had to be sitting
in the seat or standing and touching the seat when you said it or it didn’t count.
It was extremely important to make sure that everybody heard me say it, or one of my goofy brothers might take my place and claim that he never heard me say it. Then there would be a yelling match, and that never set well with Mom and Daddy. If a fight ensued, Mom would make both of us sit on the floor. Stupid** brothers.
When I didn’t get the prime real estate, I would sometimes lay on our wood floors. No pillow, no cushion, just laying on my side, my head propped up by my arm. When one side got numb, I’d switch to the other side. Can you imagine it, laying on a wood floor? We would take what we could get back then and like it.
*We always called it the bathroom, not the restroom. Maybe it was because there were so many of us living in the house, that there was never any resting going on in the bathroom.
** We might think the word “stupid”, but we tried hard not to say it, because when we called each other stupid, we got our hair pulled. The instant “stupid” came out of our mouths, we would freeze with fear, then we’d walk over to Mom and she would pull our hair. She never had to come and track us down….we knew better. Her pulling our hair worked very well with teaching us not to say stupid. We’d also get our hair pulled when we let the backdoor slam. We would be running out of the house, the door would bang, we’d stop cold, go back into the house, walk up to Mom and get our hair pulled. The Hayter kids were well behaved. Maybe a wee bit hairless, but well behaved.