The house I grew up i was a very, old place with fireplaces in every room.
When I was eight, I asked my mother if I could hang up a stocking as
I'd read about in THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS. She was talking on the
phone at the time and nodded absently, so I got out one of my
knee-high socks and went into the parlour to do so. When she heard
the hammering, she decided she'd better check what was happening. I'd
gotten a regular-sized nail and was driving it into the wooden mantle
of the fireplace. It left a very large hole in the mantle and while
Mother was dismayed at the time and tried to cover it with wood-filler
and new paint, it was always there. Later, however, I heard her
recounting the story to a friend while laughing, "...and I walked in
and she was pounding this GIGANTIC nail into the mantle...!" I decided
she wasn't TOO angry. After that, I used thumbtacks to hold up my
stocking. I'm not sure if that's the same time the fire in the
fireplace melted the chocolate cherries Santa put in my stocking or
not. The candy made a lovely, brown puddle of goo on the hearth as
it melted and dripped through the toe of the sock. The smell of
burned chocolate permeated the parlour for weeks. From that
experience, I learned to remove my stocking from the mantle before
lighting the fire!
I love the story of your mother telling her friend about the "GIGANTIC" hole you left in the mantle.: ) I could almost hear her telling it. Thanks for the grin.
Love sharing this one! At least it didn't start a fire.
Mary Marvella