Why I didn't become a whore

When I was about Sandy's age, six or seven, I was with our mother in the kitchen. A Mother was cooking something on the stove. The pots were bubbling and the food smelled good. In one moment the Mother picked up a lid with her left hand wrapped in a dish cloth. She had a spoon in her right hand. She dipped the spoon into soup, fished out a potato, blew it, but it was too hot, she dropped the potato on the lid, so she could taste it after it cooled off a little bit. Potato was cooked and supper was ready. Next time, when the Mother was cooking, I imitated her each movement. I pulled a footstool close to the stove, stood on it, so I could reach a top of the big pot. I fished out a piece of potato on the lid and began to blow. "What are you doing?" asked our mother. "Tasting the potato the same way as you did." "You mustn't do it! If you will eat out of the lid, you will become a whore." "You have eaten from the lid. You also will become the whore." "I can not be the whore. I am too old for that." "Don't worry, mom, I also will not become the whore." Mother gave me half loving and half amusing look. This is why I didn't become the whore. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010