When I was growing up there were two little girls (from two different families) in the neighborhood that spent a lot of time at our house and doing things/going places with us. My sister and I adored them like they were our little sisters.

So one Sunday afternoon one of these little girls, Blythe, tripped down the sidewalk to our house and hollered up at the window for Laura and me to come out and play. But Laura and I were not allowed to come out and play, for what reason, I do not recall. So I do think our mother told Blythe to go home, because Blythe was insistent. And Blythe was not invited in this time, which was unusual.

This did not sit well with Blythe, who was probably not much more than 5 years old at the time. And she was ADORABLE. Very petite with dark brown silky hair, a little curl, and HUGE dark brown eyes, those eyes would get you every time. She had the eyelashes normally reserved for little boys, extra long and enviable. Her cute little lips were sometimes sealed tight, giving the impression her wheels were spinning.

Oh, they were spinning that afternoon. Everything got quiet, and I'm sure we all thought she had left the property and that was that.

But that was not that. That was not that by a long shot. Imagine this, if you will. My dad loves his cars and is very particular about them. He keeps them perfectly and notices any new tiny ding right off -- sometimes he has been known to stand in the driveway when you pull in and give the car the old eagle eye.

So now he comes merrily out of the house and sees the car in the driveway as usual. But what is this??? HARK!, something unusual on the side of the car. He goes for closer inspection and now those eagle eyes are bulging from their sockets in a disbelief that seared to his very core. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, WHAT ON EARTH???

Blythe had taken a rock and scratched her name in the across the two car doors. In HUGE 8" letters. B -L-Y (backwards)-T-h (backwards)-E. The car was a medium brown color and so the scratches showed up white, whatever that was beneath the top coat. I can still see it to this day, it may as well have been etched on my brain. The lettering was good, actually, had that kindergarten flavor, a little uneven of course. At least the rock edge she used was thin, the letters were delicate, almost like her instrument of dastardly deed was a pen. And she had accomplished this so quietly, so slyly, so deliberately.

Of course she had removed herself from the scene of the crime, but there was little doubt who was the culprit.

Well, I would just be crazy to have been in Blythe's mind while she was doing that. It was totally the perfect revenge, punishing the Garretts for spoiling her afternoon. She would show us! How she thought of something so clever, I don't know but I give her a lot of credit. But she had to know she was about to do something frightfully naughty, she had to sit under that cloud for the duration of the entire art project and beyond . . . but she went ahead and did it anyway, she would worry about retribution at a later date. You have to admire that kind of unadulterated spunk.

Oh, I can just picture her sitting on her cute little legs carving her name, singularly focused, concentrating on a precise execution. Children are the fun of the world, they truly are. Blythe is wonderful and now has a 5 year old daughter herself. Who is VERY smart and adorable, in fact, the spittin' image of Blythe. Once Blythe picked up Claire from pre-K and in the car Claire right away announced matter-of-factly, Mom, I got a dot today. Blythe said, Oh, honey, that's wonderful, tell me about a dot. Claire answers, without missing a beat, Mom, It's not good.

Hope Claire doesn't read this and get any brilliant ideas. At any rate, Blythe got the job done that day. My dad barely recovered, but life goes on, and it did, with BLY(backwards)Th(backwards)E on the side of the car and all, we never fixed it. Talk about a car with personality :) And I'll bet Laura and I were always allowed to go out and play after that fateful afternoon.

Bis Sis KEM