My nephew was a silversmith at his school's colonial days and it has created a bit of a controversy.
You see, I loaned him a little crucible (or stove and melting ladle, as I call them) that I used to make lead soldiers when I was young.
This renewed the debate: What were Mom and Dad thinking? Who lets little kids play with molten lead?
The first issue is how young was I. I thought around 12, but then I remembered making my oldest sister a knight I painted in the colors of Dayton University, her alma mater.
That would have put me at 11 or 12, and I am sure that wasn't the first knight I made. That would make me nine or 10. Yikes.
My little sister thinks it's proof Mom and Dad wanted me dead. She uses that thinking to explain a lot of my childhood, like climbing on roofs, staying out late ...
I'd like to think it is proof I was amazingly cool and mature, and Mom and Dad simply trusted me.
My oldest sister, a font of wisdom and curse words, points out that the Friedreich's ataxia had not set in yet, so better then than now.
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- Krup you! *
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- Doggone it
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