I Know You

“I know you. I held you in my arms when you were a baby.”
My son has been saying this as his catchphrase for a few weeks. He says it with a deep monstrous voice. I’m not sure where he picked it up, but I find it very funny.

The catchphrase also reminds me of a funny moment from childhood. When I was a very little kid, I remember gatherings with the whole extended family. Some of the people there I would only see once a year, or less. I have memories of an older lady, in my grandmother‘s generation, who would come up to me and pinch my cheeks so hard I thought blood vessels would burst. Then, I would get a kiss on the cheek. And no ordinary kiss. This kiss came from lips with a heavy coating of bright red lipstick. It always left a big stain on my face. A stain was also noticed by the kisser. Once realized, she would try to remove the evidence by licking her thumb and trying to wipe the lipstick off with her saliva and thumb.

Funny but horrifying.

The only way I could reclaim my dignity, was by immediately going over to the deli tray and making myself a giant sandwich consisting of corn beef, roast beef, cow tongue, and a large glob of spicy golden brown mustard on rye bread. As well, I would have at least 5 to 10 slices of half sour dill pickles. I would then gather my plate and try to find the nearest spot on a couch where I could eat in peace. I would find my mom sitting on a couch, and there would only be a few inches between her and the arm of the couch. I will go over and squish my butt in between her and the edge of the couch where no one else could bother me. Mom’s are the best.

On an unrelated note, here’s the latest drawing from my sketchbook.