Weekly hair wash

I can totally understand Childrens fear of having the hair washed. When I was about 4 or 5, still living in Slabtown, my brothers and older sister washed my hair. I remember being terrified. They were all holding me upside down in a bucket of water. They still laugh about that time, I guess it was a one and only but it certainly impressed me. My Mom must have been in the hospital or something. Why they felt that kind of thing was necessary is still beyond me. So I was 4 or 5 that would make them at least 10, to 12. 3 of them on one skinny, helpless little sister.
So Guys be careful when you wash their hair. When I kept Evan I suddenly recalled the terror I had as a child. I tried to wash his hair, he kicked over a candle, and grabbed my chest, I was horrified at what I was trying to do. I grabbed him and held him and loved him. I never want him to recall that day. It was amazing how it took something so ordinary to make a memory come alive.

Oh yes, at times, in those days we did only wash our hair once a week, because we had to draw water from a well, in a bucket or a long tube thing. We had to heat it on the stove, We had to put it into a washtub and often wash our hair as we took a bath.
Our baths were usually taken on the back porch or in one of the warmer rooms when winter hit. We had to have our baths, Mama never sent us to bed dirty. Summer or winter. The girls always got the first baths, we were not as dirty as the boys. Roy still says he hated it since we probably pee'd in the water. LOL LOL Probably.

I can still remember the first bathtub I was in. A real bathtub in a real bathroom. It was at Uncle Floyd Browns house. My Grandma Brown had died and we were all staying at their house, for a day or so, My Mom took us all to the bathroom, girls first and gave us a bath. That was amazing to me. The tub was so shiny and clean, no old galvanized tub that had to be heated and no freezing when you stepped out. In additon you could go potty in the house. Imagine that, a real bathroom,.
To each of you who had the privilidge of a different life, you can not imagine how something like that can impress a small mind, or should I say young mind. Mine was never small, always asking why? who? how? too many questions, My Mom and dad often complained and said, "No more questions, you ask too many."
All this happened around the time of the last post. I will try to keep my memories in order. sort of!