Boo-hoo Baby Boo (or How to Make Eddie’s Annoying Little Sister Cry)

Baby Boo
got stuck
in the goo
and turned

My neighbor Eddie and I must have said that rhyme 10 million times while walking round and round the huge tractor tire in his backyard.

The tire was filled with sand. It was “officially” his baby sister, Connie’s, sandbox.

But we really owned it.

We walked in endless circles, laughing, spitting, and torturing Connie with the Baby Boo rhyme.

I was maybe 10, Eddie, 12, and Connie about 5.

Being a baby sister, Connie was drawn to us. She wanted to be on our team and have big fun.

Being rotten boys, we wanted to make her cry. (Sorry Connie!). 

And she would cry buckets, absolute buckets, of tears when we taunted her about the tragedies we planned for her beloved doll, Baby Boo. (“The most fantastic doll ever!”).

Despite this, Connie was always the greatest cheerleader at our weekly Demolition Skateboard Derby.

Back then, you made our own skateboards.

We’d grab a long board from behind one of the nearby houses under construction, saw a sharp point on the front, take apart some old clamp-on roller skates, and nail the wheels to the underside.

These were NOT super flashy skateboards like kids ride today, while doing stupid tricks and listening to iTunes.

No, my Nebraska Street buddies and I sat on these beasts and thundered four- or even five-abreast down Eddie’s long Driveway of Death.

The idea was to knock your friends off-balance so they had to put their hands on the concrete, and risk getting their fingers crushed and ruined for life.

Almost always, only one of us would make it to the bottom of the driveway alive.

On rare occasions that two made it to the bottom, the goal was to push each other into the path of an oncoming car, so there was a clear winner.  

This was all good, clean boy fun. But it wasn’t gross. And nothing actually died. 

So, as great as playing Killer Skateboards was, it left us with an unfilled need.

Thankfully, there were flies.

Just before an Oklahoma summer thunderstorm, when the humidity was 1,000% awful, hundreds of flies would descend on Eddie’s carport.

We’d race to Mr. Uhles’ store, buy 19-cent mini-dart guns, and let the carnage begin.

Humidity seemed to make the flies lethargic or just stupid.  You could get  real close and, splaaat.  

We’d store the fly guts in our little pill bottles. The winner was whoever got the most bug guts or made Connie cry by pretending to fling some onto Baby Boo. (Sorry Connie!)

But it wasn’t all fun and games under the carport. 

Once, Eddie made me mad enough to take a swing at him.  He was literally a foot taller, so I had to leap into the air to connect with his chin.  I missed once and then, POW.

He cried a single tear and then broke his expensive long-barrel water gun right across my leg. 

It was our biggest fight. We didn’t talk forever.

For at least a week. Until he came running up to my house, eyes wide open, and wearing the grin of a boy with mischief on his mind.

“Connie got a new Baby Boo!” he said gleefully, and off we raced, in search of his poor little sister.



6 Responses to “Boo-hoo Baby Boo (or How to Make Eddie’s Annoying Little Sister Cry)”

  1. Lillian L. says:

    Now I know why you didn’t torture me and your other big sister, you brat! You were busy torturing that poor, sweet little Connie. You BAD!!

    • hams says:

      1) I was out-numbered at home
      2) Eddie and I had a strategic advantage in numbers and height
      3) There may or may not have been an incident involving middle sister’s Chatty Cathy, which could possibly have put BIG FEAR into the little brother’s heart, ensuring he would NEVER go near her dolls again.
      4) No. 3 is totally hypothetical and should not be taken as an admission of liability.

  2. Kris says:

    “So there was an unfilled need?”

    I love that line . . . that’s perfect.

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