Consequences

I don't remember moments, I remember consequences and words.

The stash of Dad's Winterfresh gum was in his desk drawer. I don't know when I found it, but I remember when he found me with it. That's when I learned the word "theft" and was placed on my parents' watch list. I was banned from his office. And any room with drawers.

I wouldn't have any reason to remember the first snowstorm of my time in Utah. Except for my brother's incessant crying after I pelted him with the first snowballs of my (or his) life. Which also led to my mom using the word "assault" as she spoke to me. And I was assigned to shovel snow alone for hours. Another consequence, another new word.

And then there was the time Dad caught me watching "The Simpsons," which had been previously forbidden. "Lewd" was the word of the day and I returned to my parents' watch list. It took months of deliberately being caught watching Animal Planet before some kind of trust could be re-established.

I also remember getting "The Talk." Dad said I had installed too many games on the computer and that it was my fault it was running so slowly. Dad spent the few hours defragging the hard drive teaching me all kinds of words. Words I didn't want to know. Yikes.

I guess I have my parents to thank for my memories. And my vernacular. And an undesired familiarity with human anatomy and potential jail-able offenses.