Whenever the topic of overprotecting parents and overprotected children pops up in a discussion, I begin with the following story. It’s a scary funny story; to me much more funny than scary, though modern-day parents might be appalled. It’s them in particular that need to read this article.
I must’ve been seven or eight years old. As a kid growing up in the 80s, I had freedom the likes of which is only whispered today, late at night, around the proverbial fire. I walked alone to school since I was six, crossing busy highways, walking next to strangers. My mother wasn’t afraid of someone kidnapping me, or a car running me over. In the summers I went to the countryside, to spend my summer vacation with my grandparents. They loosely kept an eye on me, but I was basically running around free, coming home after dark. Overprotecting parents? What’s that?
One day – I must’ve been ten or eleven years old – I returned to my grandparents’ house after playing outdoors under the scorching sun (no sun protection, no sun glasses, and probably no cap either). I was really thirsty, so I grabbed the bottle of water waiting on the floor next to the fireplace. In fact, I was so thirsty that I didn’t stop to think why would a bottle of water be on the floor. I drank several gulps before I realized something was terribly wrong. Yep, I’d drunk lighting fluid instead, which my grandparents – in their infinite wisdom – kept in an empty water bottle. I saw a clear liquid inside a bottle still having the water brand label, so I drank it. Can you blame me?
I was terrified, but even more so when I heard a neighbor suggesting I should be taken to the hospital. My grandparents agreed that there was no danger – they gave me to drink some milk and olive oil. I threw up a couple of times, but I was fine a few hours later. Every time I belched in the next couple of days, it smelled like teen spirit as if a diesel engine had disintegrated. Once I actually thought to try and see what would happen if I belched over open fire, but apparently some sort of survival instinct was still present, and I didn’t. Ah, fun times… It’s these kinds of experiences and memories that give you something to write about in later years.
