What I know.

First things first... a big ol' happy birthday to my mama! Love you!

Hope your day is just as good as this one was :)

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Day 2: Educate us on something you know a lot about or are good at.

If you asked my mother, she’d probably tell you that I know a lot about everything – or at least I think I do. I’ve always been that way – I’ve always been the smart one, the know-it-all, the one quick to correct others when I’m positive pretty sure that I’m right. It’s a character flaw, I know. When I read this prompt, though, I was stumped. Educate others? On something I know a lot about? Or do well? What the heck. I drew a complete blank. I know nothing! I was sure.

And then, out of the blue, a memory came to me. A distinct memory, from somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain. In third grade, we had show-and-tell with themes – animals, hobbies, what I want to be when I grow up… you know the deal. One month, the theme was “teach us how to do something.” I don’t remember what any of my classmates taught, but I’m sure they were the usual things: how to tie a knot, how to make a PB&J, how to jump rope. When it was my turn, though, I did as I always do, and made things complicated. I knew just what my lesson should be: I wanted to teach my classmates how to make a milkshake. Yes, really. It was something we did regularly at home – milkshakes, blender drinks, smoothies; we were always throwing things in the blender and giving it a whirr. So, naturally, that’s what I wanted to share with my class. Never mind that a ten-year-old can’t really bring a blender to school, and that the ingredients needed to be frozen, and that, generally, this was about as complex as show-and-tell could get. I had my heart set on it.

My mother, the saint that she is, indulged encouraged me, and helped me figure out a way to get it done. I brought a big plastic bowl and wooden spoons and a whisk, and we made arrangements to keep my necessities in the freezer in the cafeteria. A little while before show-and-tell, my teacher and I retrieved the ice cream, and left it out in the classroom to soften. When my turn came, I got up there in front of the class, put all my ingredients in the bowl, and stirred and stirred until it was finally “milkshake” consistency. Then I doled it out into little paper cups and served it to my friends. In retrospect, I’m sure it was terrible, but at the time, it was perfect. I was so proud of what I’d accomplished. Even in third grade, I knew that a hair-brained idea just takes a little persistence (or pestering of your mother) and a little manual labor (no idea how long it took me to STIR that milkshake up), and you can make it happen. Plus, I “taught” my classmates something really cool!

Moral of the story is, if anyone wants to know how to make a milkshake, just let me know… I’m something of an expert.

Disclaimer: this may or may not be an exercise in creative non-fiction... the details are the facts, as much as my brain can recall them. I did email my mom this morning to verify that it was a real memory, so that's good... Take it or leave it!

And now I’m singing “my milkshake brings all the boys to yard…….” – and so are you!