Now you know the story of how I started peeking.
Well, that wasn’t the only time I did a little peeking.
Probably around 4 years old. It was New Year’s Eve. The neighbors, at least some of them, usually came to our house for a party. Not a rowdy party, mind you. Most of the neighbors were older people. My dad was by then nearing his mid-forties, my mother just past the middle thirties.
Of course, I was too young to stay up for the party. But that night I couldn’t get to sleep. I wanted to be a part of the fun. So I took to peeking again. This time the hole was much larger. This was where a stovepipe used to be to help heat the second floor of our house. I guess that was when we used the wood stove in the kitchen. By then we heated with an acme stove in the living room. But there was that hole, just made for peeking, one that I could actually see through.
Whenever my mother came into the kitchen, just below my peeking place, I would whisper, “Mommy!” Naturally she couldn’t hear me. But I was afraid to speak any louder. I have no idea why. I just kept peeking down that hole and hoping.
Finally, well past midnight, everyone had gone home. It was then that my mother discovered my peeking. It was then, too, that I discovered that she would have let me come down, at least for awhile, had she known I was there. Too late! The party was over. Again my peeking had done me no good. The knothole was full of darkness; the stovepipe hole was full of light. But my peeking was a failure in both cases. I wonder if there’s a lesson to be learned here? 🙂
Please stay tuned for my next adventure in peeking. I was a little older then, but probably not much wiser. Watch for “Life in Reverse: Peeking into my Early Years – Part 3”
I hope you have enjoyed my musings. I do appreciate your visit and I hope you will leave a comment below. Do drop by again. And if you have a few minutes, please visit my other site. Have a super week.