noisy

i wasn't really what anybody would call "quiet" as a kid.  

from what my mom tells me, one of my favorite things to do between the ages of two and four was go into the kitchen take a out a bunch of the pots and pans, scatter them all over the floor and just bang the hell out of them.  she says i did simply for the sake of making noise.  she's probably a saint, because i'm almost certain that if i had a kid like that, i'd tie his hands up to keep from doing stuff like that.  maybe she did that to me after a while and just left that part of the story out, it's not like i'm gonna remember.

imagine her surprise when, from what she tells me anyway, one day as she was doing stuff in the kitchen and i was playing on the floor behind her (whether pots and pans were involved i don't know) i suddenly got all quiet and disappeared.  it was summertime and we were po' and lived in crappy apartments, so it was hot *all* the time.  and i guess to my two-year-old brain, sitting in the fridge seemed like a way better idea than kicking it on the kitchen floor where it was about a billion degrees hotter and a thousand times sweatier.  so what i ended up doing was opening up the fridge door and standing on the ledge in there to keep cool.  i was small enough that the door was able to almost but not quite shut all the way.

my mom, realizing i'm not where she thought i was, panics and searches the entire apartment, even going outside to see if i wandered out there.  coming back into the kitchen she sees the refrigerator door cracked and opens it to find me in there, quietly, eating a tomato.  or a plumb.  or something, it's not really important i guess.