The Wrong Trousers
H.I. Coons (AKA Grandma)
Steve really was a beautiful baby & when we went out there was usually a French woman to tell me, "Ah, Madame, il est tre beaux'" It's hard to imagine the process which turned this lovable baby into a teenager (still lovable) [Ed's note: I seem to remember the appelation 'The Pest'...] who spent his time fillibustering and spluttering when he didn't want want to do something.
The most memorable time, of course, was the famous evening in Bolton. The little kids stayed with friends while Dad, me, Sandy and Steve went to Bolton to do a spot of geneology. (Dale and Mike were in Provo or on Missions) We always camped as you recall, but this particular night it was raining hard and we were going to sleep in the van. But there was nothing much to do between supper and bedtime so we decided to go see "A Mid-Summers Night Dream" we'd seen posters for during dinner. The theatre was in a civic complex & the closest we could park the van was in front of Deberham's Department Store and across the street from a Bingo Hall.
It is now dark & raining hard and the only lights were the occasional street lamp and the glow from Debenham's windows. We were all casually dressed and Dad announced we'd change to good clothes for the Theatre.
No Way! Steve was not about to change out of his jeans. We were parked on the street and it was cold and someone would come along and see him. He put up a continuous barrage for about five minutes before he took a breath and when he did, Dad would calmly say, "Okay, Steve, you can just sit in the car," and then Steve would launch into another fillibuster. This kept till we were all changed except Steve who was complaining non-stop and griping about how he'd just get his jeans off when some little old laidies would come along and see him. I don't suppose the fact that we were all laughing at him helped any. But about the time he was out of his jeans, two little old ladies did head in our general direction. However, they were going to miss Steve completely as they cut across the street toward the Bingo Hall.
Sandy never missed
a beat--she banged on the window and yelled "Hey, come over here, Steve's
changing clothes!" Steve really did fillibuster then while
the rest of us laughed till we cried. What an evening!
We spent a lot of time in France with you
older kids and then later after we added the younger 3 kids we decided
to spend time en rout e to Germany so the little kids could see some of
the sights too. We camped as usual and the campgrounds
were in a Paris suburb and had all the amenities including a bakery.
Steve was always blustering on about how he could speak a lot of languages--and
after all he was born in France and was a native. So we decided to
send him to buy the bread at the bakery. He got drilled so he could
say, "Je voudrais deux pan si'l vous plait". His big problem was
that some of the kids decided to go along and see Steve speak like a native.
They could hardly wait to get back and tell on him. Seems that he
held up two fingers and pointed at the bread and said "deux". He
was a while living that down. [Click here
to see another "Deux" Story]
You may remember the making of cinnamon rolls (as well as other goodies) and that they disappeared at an alarming rate. So I took to hiding anything that I didn't want eaten immediately. Or better yet, if I made whatever while everyone was at school, then cleaned everything up and hid the goodies--no one could even suspect there was anything in the house.
So one day Steve, who knew that there were
cinnamon rolls, asked " Je suis habiter un cinnamon roll?" Which
brought forth lots of laughs and teasing. He, meaning to ask where
I had hidden the cinnamon rolls, had come up with a sentence that would
have befuddled many a Frenchman. Literal translation--I am to live
(in) a cinmnamon roll.