I was born prematurely and at low birth weight. I was four pounds, five ounces at birth. I had none of the typical newborn baby fat; my cheeks were flat and my head was bulging, while the rest of me was skinny and angular. To be blunt, I looked like an alien. Other than that, however, I was perfectly healthy and was discharged a day later. My mother took me for my first doctor’s appointment to a well-known, established pediatrician in town, who was known for being rather coarse in mannerisms but otherwise knowledgeable. 

He went through all the usual tasks of a newborn check-up including checking normal infant reflexes. One of them was the step reflex, in which a newborn appears to walk or step when they are held upright and their feet touch a flat surface. The doctor, for some reason, used his hand as the flat surface, and this procedure ended with him supporting my neck and back with one hand and my feet with the other. He looked at me, looked at my mother, and then mimed — with me — a jaunty little dance through the air. To my mother, he remarked, “Look, it’s E.T. riding a bike!”

He honestly couldn’t understand why my mother didn’t find that nearly as amusing as he did. Or why my mother found a new pediatrician.

And she gets annoyed when I point out that, in his defense, I did look like a tiny, baby alien dressed in doll’s clothes.

I recently started working in a new distribution company during a time of “transition.” By the time I was here a month, my six-person team was down to three, as everyone else had left, moved, or been hired and fired again. Only one person on the team had been here longer than a couple of months.

While this is normally a forest of red flags, the entire reason for the change was because the “order entry” team was so busy doing everything else they could hardly enter actual orders. Automation was put in to streamline things rather than customizing to match every customer’s unique PO styles. The incoming emails were redirected to the sales reps we usually had to go through anyway. The invoicing had batch processing implemented so we could finalize ten times faster. Everyone was happy.

And then, today, one of the people who left came back in, having gotten a job with one of our clients. She had the smuggest smile known to man and, while her boss and our CEO were schmoozing, came over to see how “miserable” we all were with these “horrible” new changes.

She wasn’t happy when we told her how much easier our jobs were now, even less happy when someone added how all the toxic people were gone, and way less happy when her boss caught her screaming at us for, I guess, proving her crazy expectations wrong with our mere existence?

I go into a fast food restaurant in town. I’m a teenager, and at this age, I’m not fond of all the salad and sauces that are put onto most burgers, so I am in the habit of ordering them plain — i.e. without the sauces and salad. I’ve never had a problem with this, until now.

I order a bacon cheeseburger, plain.

I leave the shop and open the bag to find I’ve been given a bun with cheese and bacon, but no burger!

I return to the shop and tell the cashier. She turns to the kitchen and simply shouts, “You idiots!”

I get a replacement burger just the way I wanted it.

I don’t remember this myself, but Mom used to tell me about it. It happened when my younger brother was a toddler, about thirty years ago.

For some reason, he was crying and Mom tried to comfort him by offering a biscuit but he refused to take it. Meanwhile, my older brother and I tried to sing lullabies to help. It didn’t work.

I can only imagine all the noise that must have caused, and it alarmed — and possibly annoyed — our fifth family member, our cat. She was like an extra mom to my younger brother and me. For example, she would carefully lie down above my head when Mom went out with me in a baby stroller, as if to keep me warm and safe.

Without Mom noticing it, the cat came into the room, jumped up in the crib, and carefully took a small bite of the biscuit. For some reason, that made my brother stop crying, as he then snatched it away, almost like “That’s mine!” In that moment, the cat calmly left the room, her mission completed.

When I was fourteen, my Ma, Sis, and stepdad Jim — nicknamed Jimbo Bimbo Spam by my sis and I — and he had a cool little powerboat. 

One evening my ma, sis, and I were at the lake with the boat. There was a park near the spot where you back your boat into the water. While I waited for my turn, I happened to talk to a lovely couple. 

I’ve always remembered these things about them: they were in their mid-seventies, had been together for fifty years, and they had never officially married. 

After a bit of talking, my ma and sis popped up and joined in the conversation. My ma offered a ride and they gave each other a look, talking in their own little way without words but looks. They took the offer. My ma took the woman out for a bit and when they came back I got my turn with the gentleman and we took off.

We were going for a bit and this fellow was enjoying it with a smile and the wind whipping through his hair. This boat was good with catching the waves from other boats if you could whip the boat itself just right. I went in with a bit too much juice and caught a wave, the boat tilting a good bit.

I looked over in time to see this man in his seventies fall into the water. Now, I almost panic, hoping this man can swim and expecting a good earful if he can. I got the boat turned back around and saw his head pop up. When I came up to him, I reached out and helped him up. He got onto his seat and, after wiping at his face, he waved his hands and said with excitement in his voice, “That was crazy, mannnnnn!” and I swear I saw the youth in his face.

We started laughing for a good few minutes. We rode only for a little bit longer with him being soaked. I pulled up and we got off the boat, and before he left, the man gave me a good hug for a few seconds, along with back pats and a thanks for a good time. My ma and sis got on for a turn and I watched them ride off.

At one point, I saw the cutest thing: the man with his arm over the woman’s shoulder and her arm around his waist. She pulled him tight against herself, even with him soaked. It was a moment of genuine love.

This story is part of the Boating roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

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