(Completely random and unrelated to the post...My mom, Ellie, Megan and me--February 2008)
I remember clear as day the afternoon riding in the back seat of the car with my older-by seventeen-months-brother, Matthew. However, I can not remember who was the special passenger in the front seat alongside my mother, to elicit the 'You better be on your best behavior' lecture earlier that morning.
And so obediently, Matt and I kept to ourselves. We didn't interrupt, we didn't fight, we didn't even talk to those up front. We entertained ourselves with conversation. I, maybe six-seven years old, but already ever the questioner and random conversation starter asked Matt,
"What do you like to do best? Coughing, sneezing or yawning?
I can not for the life of me remember Matt's response. But, I do remember my response, more importantly though, I remember The Look that I saw in the rear view mirror. You know The Look that every mother is capable of giving. The Look of warning, threat, punishment and quite possibly, doom.
Obviously, I had answered my own question loud enough for my mother and special passenger to hear too.
"I like sneezing the best. Especially when snot shoots out of your nose."
The Look was enough.
I immediately halted any further discussion of bodily functions and/or fluids.
And for the record, I received no further punishment or talk.
After all, any mother knows that more often than not, The Look is sufficient.