There are few words that will make a child either cower or laugh, quicker than when you hear ‘Wait until your father gets home.’.
In our home, that usually meant that mom didn’t know how to punish us and she had to wait until dad got home to discuss it.
Sometimes, it meant that if she tried to punish us, she was going to start laughing and then we would think we didn’t do anything wrong. The only time we knew we were really in trouble, was when my brother and I broke the window air conditioning unit. Our room never really had good air conditioning so mom and dad bought us a window AC unit for our bedroom. We were roughhousing one evening, which we weren’t supposed to be doing in our bedroom. She always said that one of us was going to end up falling out the window. Since we were on the second floor, I was sure it would have probably been me and I would be hurt. I was the youngest. Instead of us going through the window, the air conditioning fell out the window. It was like watching in slow motion as the air conditioning started to move and then fell. We watched as it fell to the ground and blew up into many, many pieces. Mom was coming across the driveway when she saw the AC unit break apart. We locked the bedroom door when she shook her fist and said, ‘Wait until your father gets home.’ We had never seen mom angrier in our entire twelve years of life.
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