Timmy Tom Turkey

     At a very young age our son, Timothy was funny.  He was given the nickname, Timmy Tom Turkey by relatives because he was such a cut-up.  Some of his antics bear repeating, so they made it into the blog.
     When we were stationed in South Carolina Timmy was in his "terrible twos".  We lived out in the country and owned horses.  Behind our house was a tobacco barn, a chicken coop and a tack house where we kept the feed for the horses.  It was also the place where we stored saddles, bridles, blankets and other equipment needed for their care and maintenance.  Next to the tack house was a water faucet with a hose connected to it.  We used it to clean the area and water plants and animals.  Unfortunately, it was also Timmy's favorite play thing.
     South Carolina is extremely hot in the summer so I guess it was a good way for the kid to cool down.  In the morning when he finished breakfast he would head straight for the faucet , turn it on and begin spraying the whole area (including himself).  I knew it was great fun for him and most of the time I ignored it.  Our grass grew thick in the yard, so the mud wasn't a problem but if there was trouble to be found, Timmy could find it.  
     One day he decided to venture a little farther with the hose and clean out the tack house.  He took it into the little shed and soaked everything,-- the leather reins, the saddles, the horse blankets and even the feed.  One of the older kids came running into the house yelling...
"Timmy's spraying the tack house!"
     I ran out but it was too late to salvage everything.  I pulled Timmy into the house, swatted his bottom a couple of times and scolded him as I yanked off his wet clothes.
     "Your Dad is going to be so upset with you!  That feed cost a lot of money and it's no good now.  If the saddles are ruined he'll spank you again!"    I had sufficiently put the fear of Dad into him so at least he didn't get into the tack house again that day.
     When Ted came home I told him about the incident.  He went out and examined everything and said that he thought the saddles and bridles weren't as badly soaked as the blankets and feed.  The blankets would dry and we'd just have to throw the feed out to the neighbors chickens and buy new feed for our horses.  He called Timmy inside to lecture him.
     "Timmy, you are forbidden to play with the hose!"  he said.  "Do you understand?"  Timmy nodded.  "There's just too much out there that can be destroyed with water.  I don't want you to even turn the faucet on!  You just stay completely away from the water.  You have a wading pool out back to play in but Joel or Kelly will have to fill it for you.  I don't want you using the hose!  Am I making myself clear?!"  Timmy nodded, (We were such young parents that the fact that you simply can't reason with a two year old hadn't sunk in yet.) "Okay, I won't spank you this time but it better not happen again!" said Ted as Timmy nodded again.  
     The next morning was Saturday and the day started out hot.  Timmy ate his breakfast and I dressed him in a tee shirt and shorts.  He pulled on his cowboy boots, grabbed Joel's big cowboy hat and yanked it down on his small head, flattening his ears.  As he turned to run outside, I reminded my cowboy again not to play with the water hose.  When he had been gone for a while I looked out the kitchen window to check on the kids, playing in the yard.  Standing beside the tack house was Timmy. He had the water hose in his hand and was spraying everything around him for as far as the stream would reach.  I yelled, "Ted!"
     Ted came into the kitchen and I said, "Look out back."  He peered outside and when he saw Timmy his jaw dropped.  "He's gonna get it!  he muttered as he bolted for the door.  "Ted, he's only two!" I implored.  "Maybe he didn't understand."  I wasn't even sure if Ted had heard my pleas for mercy as he disappeared from the kitchen.
     I retreated into the living room, unable to watch the administration of justice, and after several minutes I heard Ted come back into the kitchen.  I went to find out what had happened and was astonished to find him hiding there, laughing his head off!
     "What happened?  Did he not understand your instructions?"  
     When Ted gained control he said, "I'll tell you what happened and you tell me if he understood."
     He explained that he had run out the door yelling, "Timmy!" and by the time he reached him Timmy had the hose behind his back.  He was standing there with an innocent look on his face.  The hose shooting a stream of water up his back and onto the brim of the cowboy hat.  At the front peak of the hat it ran off and pooled on the ground in front of him.  He was the wettest little kid Ted had ever seen.  
     He said he remembered my words, "Maybe he didn't understand.  He's only two!"  so he stopped and took a deep breath before he exclaimed, "Timmy,--don't tell me you're playing with the hose again after I told you not to.  Don't tell me that you are deliberately disobeying me.  I don't even want to hear an excuse!"  Timmy stood silent...water running off his hat and gushing out of his boots, the flattened ears, the only dry place on his little body.  
     "Okay, I won't tell you that." he said to his dad.
     "Well, if your not playing with the hose then what is that running off your hat, gushing out of your boots and dripping from your face?" Ted asked.
     Timmy looked up, his eyebrows dancing like a hound dog's as his mind raced for an explanation.  "Sweat?" he asked.
     Ted lost it!  He turned on his heels and ran into the house to laugh because he knew he had to spank Timmy and he couldn't do it while laughing.
     Disobedience was bad enough but now Timmy had added a lie and one so cleaver that it had become a comedy routine.  Ted had to administer discipline, but first he had to stop laughing.
     I learned that day just how much we underestimate our children.  Timmy at two not only understood perfectly what was expected of him but he had already learned to devise and excuse for disobedience.  Neither had it escaped him just how far-fetched the excuse was because he didn't give his dad a definite answer--sweat!  Instead, he answered with a question...sweat? or in other words "Would you believe me if I said, sweat?"  The only thing this two year old didn't understand was just how far he could skate along the line of disobedience.  He found out that day.
     Another Timmy incident happened during this same time frame.  Ted had a favorite chair in the living room where he sat at night to watch T.V.  It was an overstuffed old thing with a foot stool and he loved to relax in it after a hard day.
     One night I made Sundaes for our evening snack with scoops of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate syrup.  I distributed the sundaes to the three children who usually sat or laid around the floor during T.V. time, then went back into the kitchen to scoop out mine and Ted's.  Ted of course had to come supervise the pouring of the chocolate onto his.  
     While we were in the kitchen Timmy crawled  with his short little legs and a bowl full of ice cream and chocolate syrup, into his dad's chair.  When we returned from the kitchen, Ted looked at him in surprise and said, "Timmy, that's my chair!"  Timmy glanced up nonchalantly and said, "Okay."  I took his bowl while he climbed obediently off the chair.  None of us noticed afterword as all our eyes were glued to the T.V., that Timmy's weren't.  We didn't observe him concentrating on his dad's face until we heard him ask, "Do you feel it yet?
     Ted looked at him, perplexed and asked, "Feel what?"
     Timmy said, "The shocolate."
     I saw Ted's eyes widen as he jumped up from the chair.  Just as Timmy said the word schocolate his dad began to feel the wet sticky sensation on the back of his leg.  If I remember correctly he didn't laugh that time...but neither did he spank Timmy.  "Confession is good for the soul" and sometimes spares the bottom.  

(c)copyright2014Laura Gehrke