Charm and Sass| A Lifestyle Blog: Putty In My Hands

Side Note: Y'all something is up with my formatting but I am trying to fix it!
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Growing up I was always a really good kid. I rarely got into trouble because I almost always did what I was told or what I was expected to do. If you were to ask my mom, I promise you that she would say I was a perfect child, even through my teenage years. I think she may be slightly delusional but we won't tell her that mmkay?

Anyhow, since I was so completely perfect all the time you can bet that I never pulled any stunts on anyone, never, ever, ever. Except this one time. Oh, and then there was that other time...Oh who am I kidding? I pulled stunts all the time!

I've always been a talker. My nickname was Motor Mouth for YEARS. I just talked and talked and talked and talked...I'm getting paid back 10 fold because Addison is a motor mouth too. No wonder my parents always wanted me to hush it! Anyway, I was also very social. I was friends with everyone I knew and of course I wanted to talk to them constantly.


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My blabbing skills became a problem pretty early in life. Like in the first grade y'all! Mrs. Lankford (who happens to still be one of my most favorite teachers EVER!) arranged her students desks together in groups of either 4 or 6, or something like that. Do you know what happens when you put a Motor Mouth in a group of 4-6 of her best friends? She talks to them. Do you know what happens when you tell her to stop talking to them? She whispers to them. Do you know what happens when you move said Motor Mouth away from her friends into a solitary group of just ONE? She TRIES TO WHISPER to her friends from across the room.

Yep, I'm here to tell ya, that is what happens. It's a wonder that Mrs. Lankford still liked me by that point but luckily I was and still am a pretty likeable gal! However, after about a week or so of my nonsense Mrs. Lankford knew that she had to take further action because my talkative nature wasn't going to simmer down on it's own. Do y'all know what she did? She gave me a bad conduct remark on my take home folder. You know, those folders you have to TAKE HOME for your parents to sign?! Holy crap! What was I going to do? I was going to be in SO.MUCH.TROUBLE.!

Well, it didn't take long for me to come up with a plan. You see, at the time I lived with my mom who was a single working mother and my single Uncle who I happened to have wrapped around my little finger. It's true. He did anything and everything I wanted him to do and I knew I'd have no problem getting him to help me out of the pickle I was in.

My Uncle picked me up from school that day. The plan I'd devised was so devilish that I wasn't even one bit nervous. My Uncle was clueless to the fact that it was take home folder day and my mom wouldn't be home from work for a few more hours. I had plenty of time. When we got home I went to my room and did what any normal 6 year old girl would do after school. Why, I colored my mommy a pretty picture of course! (I know, what a suck up!)

When I'd finished, I marched right out to my Uncle who was in the living room, my picture in hand. I said, "Uncle Vince, I drew this picture for mommy & I want to put her name on it. How do you spell Celeste?" Do you know what he did? He wrote it down for me on a piece of paper so that I could go back to my room and write it out on my mom's beautiful new picture. Ahh, he was like putty in my hands!

Once I'd mastered printing my mom's name on the picture I'd drawn it was time to get down to business. Have you figured out my plan of action yet? I FORGED MY MOTHER'S SIGNATURE. AT THE RIPE YOUNG AGE OF 6. Except that of course we hadn't yet learned how to write in cursive. So I printed it. Probably in pencil or crayon and if you've ever seen the handwriting of a 6 year old then you know where this is going..

The next day I turned my folder in with my head held high. I just knew in my heart that this was going to work. That is, until Mrs. Lankford came to my desk and asked me to step into the hall with her. Then she led me to the principal's office where I was asked to call my mother and tell her what I'd done. CRAP.

Y'all, I learned a BIG lesson from all this and I'm glad I learned it at a young age because it saved me a lot of trouble in the years to come.

The lesson? DON'T GET CAUGHT!