I’ve never been a fan of milk even growing up on a dairy farm. I was a skinny child, ate whatever I wanted but it was all healthy choices. My one room schoolhouse teacher thought I was too thin. Her solution was for me to draw a bottle of milk on the blackboard every morning in front of the rest of the 24 students showing how many glasses of milk I drank the day before. Needless to say I was humiliated even though I loved the teacher and knew she thought she was doing a good thing. A conversation this month on my birthday with an old friend and fellow student in those days, said she remembered the teacher drawing a cake for my birthday on the board—I told her I only remembered the milk bottles.
***
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!
The Bag Lady 
It’s strange how our brains are programmed to remember the bad/sad things but not so many of the happy memories. I suppose it’s the fight or flight keeping us safe.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The last few months have been like that. I lost my two sisters within a month’s time.
LikeLike
I’m sorry for your loss x
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. It’s taking time
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s easier to remember the bad things. It’s sad, but those things make a huge impact, especially on a child.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. And as a grandmother I can look back to regret some things I said as a mother
LikeLiked by 1 person
Did you go to a one-room schoolhouse also?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. In Vermont
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mine was in Minnesota. Our dairy farm consisted of only one cow which I had to milk by hand.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yowsa! We had a few Holsteins and a couple Jerseys and there was always a debate between m dad and his dad as to which provided the best milk. We had a milking barn with stantions, ancient in today’s world.
LikeLike
Nice post
LikeLike