I just loved Katie, Mother’s first cousin, though she only visited once, even naming my only daughter for her. Maybe that will make up for this horrible story I’m about to tell. Katie and Glenn came by for a few days after visiting my grandparents in Texas. Like all three-year-olds, I assumed they were my exclusive guests. Glenn was overshadowed by the lovely,
indulgent Katie. She was a hefty lady with fat, fair braids coiled in a crown around her head, a style I still yearn to emulate. I seldom saw her not laughing during that visit. She’d scoop me up and hug me everytime I was within arm’s reach. I admired her marvelous taste. I was delighted to stay home for Katie to fix my breakfast while Mother drove Phyllis to school. Since Mother had told Katie to fix “whatever I wanted,” I went out on a limb, requesting “five scrambled eggs.” Katie fixed me right up. I gobbled every bite, though I’d never seen five scrambled eggs in my life. It was a heroic feat, but I did myself, and Katie, proud! Mother was astounded what we’d hatched up between us when she got home a few minutes later. That episode alone made me love Katie.
That was just a warm-up for the horrible story. As Mother and Katie puttered around in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast, Katie still in her robe and slippers, I lounged comfortably under their feet. Katie had apparently forgotten the nature of naughty three-year-olds. I gazed up the tail of her robe, announcing for all who cared to listen, “Mama, she ain’t got no panties on!” Katie laughed! Mother didn’t!