Lynn's Comments: Like most kids, I believed that all the drudge work belonged to Mom...the repairs and the maintenance belonged to Dad and that I was there to be fed, clothed and endured. I hadn't ASKED to be born...and therefore I was a perpetual guest. Seems that my parents didn't order a princess when they brought me into the mix and I was soon expected to clean up my squalor, help with the dishes and generally make myself useful. I rebelled. I felt cruelly done by. I lay down on the floor and howled at the injustice of it all. Despite the hardship and the unfairness of it all - I do remember having a distinct sense of pride and satisfaction once a chore was done.
Lynn's Comments: Strips about littering were always well received. This one was made into a poster and was put up at a lake in Saskatchewan. It was also a limited edition print, which was given to volunteers who helped to clean up local beaches.
Lynn's Comments: Laura was a combination of Beth and Don's three daughters: Lauren, Chrissy, and Arli. It was much easier writing about one cousin in the strip than three!
Lynn's Comments: Even on the most miserable winter days, my kids seemed immune to the cold. Mittens, boots, warm socks and headgear were fought against in their hurry to get out doors. They only came in when they were blue and shivering and had to be thawed out in a hot bath. Knowing he was freezing, I once called out to Aaron saying, "What are you waiting for, why don't you come inside?" and he replied, "My fingers still work!"
Lynn's Comments: I had a good-sized wash tub in the backyard. It would take two of us to get him to the tub and then into it. Once he was in, he gave up the fight and put up with the scrubbing.
Lynn's Comments: All of the carpeting in my house is the colour of coffee with cream--it hides the spills!
Lynn's Comments: For years, the lot next door to our house on Fifth Street was empty. Then it was sold and the new house seemed to take forever to be built. During the time of construction, my mom railed at the dirt, the plaster, and all the dangerous materials that were left lying about on the property. We kids had a wonderful time playing in the sand, jumping on the plywood and piling up the bricks. I clearly remember sitting on my knees shaping plaster and dirt into patties, and then tasting them to see if they had turned into cookies. I was convinced they were the real thing!
Lynn's Comments: Micromanagement is never a good thing.