26 Comments

Reminds me of The Mrs. Piggle Wiggle stories by Betty MacDonald. She first wrote The Egg and I about life on a chicken farm near Chimacum, Washington state that became the basis for the Ma and Pa Kettle movies. Then there was Onions in the Stew about life on Vashon Island in Puget Sound, Washington and commuting over to Seattle by ferry boat during the war years.

But the Mrs. Piggle Wiggle stories were magic - about the magical cures she had for children who were tattle-tales, heedless breakers, thought-you-said children hard of listening, or children with dreadful table manners.

The parents of the tattle-tales got magic dust to sprinkle on the terrible tattler in their sleep. Then when they tried to tattle, a dark cloud WITH A TAIL flew out of their mouth. The parents of the heedless breaker got another kind of magic dust that made their child get out of bed in slow motion, instead of at breakneck speed, landing on a roller skate and sailing downstairs with a crash.

The parents of children who never paid attention and were always saying “I thought you said” … got magic dust that gave the children extraordinarily acute hearing. They could hear worms burrowing in the earth, the chirping of birds was like clashing cymbals inside a 55 gallon metal drum. They were cured almost instantaneously. The parents of children with deplorable table manners got to borrow Lester the pig, who had exquisite table manners. Who wants to be messier than a pig? No one.

The Mrs. Piggle Wiggle stories are not just for kids, nosireebob.

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This sounds fantastic. Definitely looking these up. A pig with exquisite table manners, roller skate pranks, magic dust--this is my jam.

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Her grown-up books are just as entertaining. “Onions in the Stew” about life on Vashon Island in Puget Sound is full of Betty-isms. She had a Japanese gardener who swore the plant he sold her was a dwarf Azalea. The soil on Vashon was so rich, she said the last time she saw it, it was 20 feet tall, striding up the hillside beating its chest with gigantic branches heading for the forest. Or the woo-woos, large flying insects whose mission in life was to get inside your nightgown.

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Ah, Betty MacDonald. Mom turned me on to her. Thanks for expanding the opening, as it were

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You always finds a way to bring humor and levity to any situation. Your wit and darkness are ever intriguing. Condolences on the tragic loss of life of your sister. I pray you are able to find comfort in her memories. Love ya!! 🫶🏼

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Thanks, Joni. I appreciate you.

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Reading this brings back memories, when children would say, I love you Mom and Dad and it would make your day. Now that they are teens just know every day, there might still be a monster but you kids still hold sway!

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Ha! Well put.

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Loved this tasty morsel you better be good, or you won't do well. In fact you might know one that is going to Hell (and we know who you are...you with the Golden Hair, trying to scare everyone, everywhere).

This is a good one, but now write one for children so they can read it to me and I won't get scared.

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Please note my correction...which said you "might be one" was meant to say "you might know one who is going to hell." Sorry!

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Ha! I read through the lines. Your consistent presence on this Substack--your digital reputation as it were--precedes itself. ;)

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Voila! You've done it again.

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Love the story and am very impressed you dedicated the time and effort for your children. If only it worked.

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It works the way most things work--over time and with constant reinforcement.

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I would very much appreciate where I can hook up with Jessica. She can be a part of my very very small circle of self deprecating cohorts .... Oh. As for the whinny whinny children. I was the monster . One kid still missing.

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Well-executed self deprecation is a timeless art. Up there with cuisine fit for monsters.

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Perfection.

As a child, one of my favorite books was "Revolting Rhymes" by Roald Dahl. (Dark sense of humor started early for me.) This poem (and the illustrations worthy of Quentin Blake's esteem) would fit in nicely.

I think I'll play this in the morning as my kids are reluctantly climbing out of bed. Nothing like some good ol' memento mori splashed in your morning cereal to remind you to be grateful for what you have (before its too late).

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I love Dahl! I haven't read Revolting Rhymes, but it's in the queue. His adult fiction is also worth your time if you haven't gotten to it yet. ;)

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Thank you for the reminder to be grateful. I’m grateful for it!

We’re in an exclusive club together. I became a member when my brother became the perpetrator and victim of his own death the morning after Mother’s Day in 2021. It changed my entire outlook on life. I write to offer you condolences as well as hope and encouragement. Here’s a quote from Aldose Huxley about the core of reality: “Experience is not what happens to you, it’s what you do with what happens to you.” Virtual hugs, wishing you and all who knew and loved your sister peace, healing and love.

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I appreciate you. Sorry to hear about your brother. It's not a club you want to be part of, but when it happens, you're grateful for the club all the same. The loneliness is profound.

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Loved it. And thank you for reminding me of Shel Silverstein. Uncle Shelby’s ABZ Book was a favourite of my childhood and probably strongly responsible for my darkish sense of humour.

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I feel the same about Shel Silverstein, in fact about a lot of children’s writers who shaped why and when I laugh and about what or whom—Roald Dahl, Bill Watterson, Gary Larson, Judy Blume, Edward Gorey, Beverly Cleary… :)

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This was a wonderful Story. Lots love aunt Minerva

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You are so kind. Thank you. I love following your writing. This is how I learn to be better, thru sites like yours and Paul Daugherty's.

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Yep. And I just hate it when the rocks in my head spill out onto the path in front of me (ow, ow, ow!--I knew I shoulda worn shoes instead of thin flipflops)

All my best 💕

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I love this image! I can relate. All kinds of things spill out of my head.

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