OK, here is one more story from my early childhood. While we still lived in the downstairs apartment and I was about two years old, my daddy built a sandbox for me in the back yard. Many of our homes featured sandboxes over the years, he was a carpenter after all. As my mother told the story, I liked playing in my sandbox. I believe that because in later life, when I was in kindergarten, the sand table was my very favorite thing. But back to the early years. We had a dog named Mabel. My father named most of our pets. We later had two cats named Heathcliff and Hercules. The story goes that one day, as I was playing in my sandbox, my mother was trying to call the dog in "Here Mabel, here Mable." Loudly, several times. Evidently a neighbor heard her calling and scolded mom for calling her child like a dog. Mom was embarrassed but set the neighbor straight on who was who. It wasn't too many weeks after that that my mom looked out the back window to check on me and saw (as she described it) a giant rat climbing into my sandbox. Needless to say, Mom set some kind of track record getting to me. I'm guessing it wasn't too long after that that we moved out of that apartment and into our first little house.
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