Betsy Wetsy And A Little Girl Named Nosey

When I was a kid I had a nickname that was only used by my family. Well actually, I had two, and one was Lucy. I don't know why I was given this nickname but my best guess is that one day my mother in fits of exasperation over something that I had done could not remember my real name and just said whatever name came to mind, and Lucy was what popped in her head, and it stuck. From the time that I was about four years old and even until today, my mom will still call me or refer to me as Lucy; when she does this I answer and the family knows who she is referring to. I often wonder if this is where I got the name for my dog, Lucy? I digress, anyhoo, my other nickname and how I got it is more interesting.

Here is the story of how Nosey was born. It all started when I was about five years old and my mom needed to get me out of the house so she could wrap my sister Debbie' s and my Christmas presents. My mom enlisted my dad with the task of getting me out of the house for an hour so that Christmas could be wrapped up and tied with pretty bows. Ever the cleaver guy, my dad, one Saturday morning told me he he really needed my help with a very important chore but he was worried that I might not be smart enough to help. Really? Me, not smart enough to help; Yeah right! Here is a bit of the exchange between me and my dad.

Dad: Hey Lucy ya wanna help your ole dad out?

Me: Sure Daddy.

Dad: Well, I don't know if you can, I'm not sure if you're smart enough.

Me: Yes I am, yes I am, Daddy plez leme elp you.

Dad: Okay, but first I need to know if you know your ABC's

Me: U-huh I know em, I can mber them; A, B, C, D, L M, O, P, F Q, U, Y, Z,

Dad: Well, that's pretty good, but I don't know, you seem to be missing a few letters.

Me: Oh Daddy, plez, plez, plez leme elp.

Dad: Okay. This is what I need you to do for your ole dad, see all these tools, I need you to put them in the shed for me, and I need you to put them on the shelves in A, B, C order. Understand?

Me: U-huh...I put the hammer on the shelf first, then I put the box of nails on the shelf, and then...

Dad: You got it, now finish this up and come get me when you are done; I'll be over there at the pool cleaning it.

I eagerly set to the task of arranging my dad's tools alphabetically, and was quite proud of myself; hammer, box of nails, some screws, and oh wait what's this?.....A big box wrapped in pretty Christmas paper and tied with a bow under the shelf. Hmmmm I thought, this must be for me. With all the excitement and anticipation of a five year old I opened the big pretty wrapped box; rather I tore into it and to my five year old hearts delight I found a Betsy Wetsy; this one had reddish hair kind of like my own, and she could pee after having water or milk poured into her mouth. I was soooooo excited, I had been wanting, begging, and praying for a Betsy Westy, and had even asked Santa for it when I sat on his lap. I jumped up and down and ran around in circles, and then ran to the pool to find my dad and to show him what I found....."Look Daddy, I found my Besty Wetsy that Santa brought".

You should have seen the look on my dad's face; a cross between holding back a fit of chuckles and trying to be serious. My dad, while trying not to bust up laughing came over and knelt down to me and said, "Sorry Lucy, this is not your Betsy Wetsy, she belongs to another little girl that I know. What? At that moment I had heard my daddy utter to most cruel words ever; "another little girl I know". I calmly asked; "What other little girl, Daddy?" I'm the only little girl you know, so who does MY Betsy Wetsy belong to? After what seemed like forever, my dad looked at me and said....."She belongs to a little girl named Nosey".

On Christmas morning that year I opened the last of the presents, the one that was in a big box and wrapped with a pretty bow, and it was from Santa. To my delightful and honest surprise I found beneath the pretty wrapping paper my very own Betsy Wetsy. I looked at my dad and squealed with little girl excitement, "Look Daddy, a Betsy Wetsy just like Nosey's!

For years, at least until I was 11, I believed that there was another little girl that my dad knew who's name was Nosey....It took a long time for me to figure out that I was Nosey. I was such a gullible kid! Sweet natured, but gullible.