I WAS A MILK SPILLER
This re-run is from May 2013
As a young boy I used to often think, “When am I going to stop spilling milk?” At least three times a week at dinner, I would reach for something and knock over my glass of milk.
I wasn’t a bed wetter, I was a milk spiller. I don’t know which would be worse. The bed wetter can’t really be blamed for his accident; he was asleep for crispy sake. The milk spiller is awake and just careless. The bed wetter does not get yelled at, or at least he shouldn’t get yelled at, the milk spiller is responsible for his mess.
Bed wetter’s are cleaned up and cuddled by mom. They are told it is all right, that you’ll grow out of it.
Milk spillers get yelled at.
“Watch what you’re doing! Damn, when are you going to learn there is a glass of milk between you and the butter dish?”
Milk spillers have to clean up their mess.
“Get some towels and clean up this mess!”
As I cleaned up the mess I wondered, “When am I ever going to stop milk spilling?”
I never spilled the milk on purpose. I tried not to spill it, but then suddenly I had a desperate need for some salt and reached for it without thinking and in slow motion I see my sleeve hit the glass, the milk spill out and I hear my dad yell out, “J O E…T h e m i l k !”
Or, I asked to be excused and pushed myself away from the table too hard and toppled the glass, or I tripped while clearing the table. It was mortifying. I was afraid to go out to eat, and I turned down invitations from friends to stay for dinner.
I wonder, was I the only one so inflicted? I finally grew out of the problem but not until the age of at least ten.
For a while I was afraid my milk spilling period would scar* me for life, fortunately it did not.
Of course I no longer drink milk with dinner, just an occasional sippy-cup of wine.
*Damn Microsoft I know I can’t spell, but when you tell me scar is wrong and suggest scare, then I try skar and you suggest scar…WTF!
Blame the person who designed glasses with the bottom smaller than the top; they're destined to tip over!ReplyDelete
I could never pour a glass of milk without spilling way into my teens. Now I'm flawless. Some kids just need more time to mature I think.ReplyDelete
I have a nephew, who would spill on purpose anything that wasn't the fizzy soft drink he wanted.ReplyDelete
If you'd spilled that often at my house, you wouldn't be served a drink at the table. You'd have to walk to the kitchen and drink standing over the sink. Sounds harsh, but better than washing yet another tablecloth.
Our table drinks were always water anyway.
I agree with Marcia May... no more heartache or spillages if you'd had a different style glass, maybe one with a lead weight base.ReplyDelete
My brothers did a lot of milk spilling. Perhaps I did, too.ReplyDelete
awkward pre-teen blues...ReplyDelete
See if they would have given you a sippy-cup of wine thing would have been fine and you wouldn't have been skarred or scared or anything.ReplyDelete
Have a fabulous day. ☺
Yikes, what trauma. I can see why you turned down invites. Glad you outgrew itReplyDelete
--cept for that wine thingy.
From one of my old posts: When Blake was about two, the kids were having lunch & I was at the sink, with my back to them. Blake knocked over his glass & spilled his milk. I wiped it up & poured him some more. He knocked over his glass again, & again I wiped it up & poured him more. I warned him not to do it again or he would be sorry. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he deliberately knocked it over one more time. I picked up the gallon milk bottle (which had probably a quart or so left in it) & emptied it on his head! Childish, I know, but it made a beautiful waterfall—or, I guess, a milkfall. He didn’t even cry—he just sat there with his little mouth hanging open in amazement as the milk cascaded over his head. As far as I know, none of our kids ever deliberately knocked over their milk again. Not while I was in the room, anyway.ReplyDelete
I'm glad you did a re-run on this post. I can't remember spilling my drinks but I do recall breaking glasses while doing dishes. It's not that hard to remember because it's been happening all my adult life, the last time being a few weeks ago. Honestly, I've gone through so many glasses it isn't funny.ReplyDelete
And your footnote on typing "scar" was priceless! (and Sandee's comment, too)
My solution when my kids were young was to never pour them more than i wanted to clean up. It meant i refilled the cups more often, but if they spilled, it was a small amount.ReplyDelete
And i know a grown-up (Brother-in-Law, The Mouth) who still can't eat or drink without spilling or making a mess!
I can honestly say that I never spilled any milk at the dinner table when I was a kid. Milk was never served with dinner at my parents' house. However, I remember spilling the occasional glass of beer...ReplyDelete
All these comments, and no one did the 'no crying over spilt milk'......ReplyDelete